


Our Galaxy Has Gone Far Away

by FarisBeshma



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Detective Picard, F/M, Flashbacks of the prequels, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Gen, Han in Starfleet? Good luck, I don't know when I'm supposed to put tags in so HERE WE GO, Jedi in Starfleet, Lando gets big mad, Miscommunication, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Slow Burn, That's Not How The Force Works, The Dark Side of the Force, The Force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2020-10-21 00:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 74,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20684687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarisBeshma/pseuds/FarisBeshma
Summary: When the Enterprise crew finds themselves warped to a galaxy far far away, they're thrust into a civil war! With Captain Picard kidnapped by the Galactic Empire and Han Solo living aboard the Enterprise, will the members of Starfleet find a way to save their captain and get back home with the help of the Rebel Alliance, or will they be consumed by the unknown frontier? Updates each* Thursday before 9PM EST





	1. From Disaster, Discovery

_Captain’s Log, Star Date 2019.6, following a recent ambush from a Klingon Warship, the USS Enterprise was forced to retreat. The ship has sustained massive damage, as well as being hit with an ionic blast as we were entering warp drive. This ionic blast has not only knocked us off of our original course, but also caused a brief overdrive of the warp engines, sending us much further away than we had originally intended._

“Lt. La Forge, Status Report,” Captain Picard said, his face wary as he looked over the situation on the command deck. 

The crew on deck, First Officer Riker, Lieutenants Data, Worf, Deanna Troi, and Ensign Crusher, were shaken but recovering after their narrow escape from the Klingon attack.

Lieutenants Worf and Data had just finished extinguishing flames from their respective stations. Data was able to save his in time but Worf wasn’t as lucky, his computer now a melted mess lost to the flames. Lt. Troi’s computer was nearly destroyed by a fallen ceiling tile, leaving it with a massive crack in the screen and Troi’s forehead with a long cut. The luckiest of them was Ensign Crusher, his chair had snapped in half, leaving him staring at the ceiling to see that wires were hanging out, the occasional spark sputtering past his face and onto the metallic floor.  
The USS Enterprise had rarely taken fights of this magnitude, and it would take at least a few hours to repair. The bigger question was, where would they go to get the shipwork done? 

“It’s looking pretty bad in here Captain,” Geordi LaForge, the chief engineer, said through his communicator to the bridge crew. “I’ve never seen anything like it. That last shot they got on us caused the plasma conduits to overheat! The failsafes stopped an explosion from vaporizing the whole system, but all of the conduits have been melted to a crisp. We’ll need to stop somewhere for replacements before we can even think of hitting warp drive again,” There was a pause over the communicator, Geordi trying to solve the problem as he spoke, “I don’t know what new type of ion weapon they hit us with, but we have to warn StarFleet about it as soon as possible. Doesn’t help that we took some massive damage from that fight, shields are at 20% and refusing to charge back up. Missile bays have been hit hard enough that their welded shut, any launch would implode as soon as we fired it. Looks like it’s only phasers until we can find a place to make some repairs, Captain.”

A wary look grew over Picard’s face, he had pulled up the charts for the system they were in while Geordi was talking to him. They were in lands unknown.

“Lt. Data, do a scan on the current system,” Picard said to his android officer, who began going through the process at his terminal, faster than any human mind could. Picard then tapped his communicator, keying into Doctor Crusher, “How is the status of the crew looking?”

“There are a few broken bones, but miraculously no fatal injuries yet,“ replied Doctor Crusher.

“Full diagnostics of the system says the only place that wasn’t greatly damaged was the teleportation bay,” Geordi cut in, “The Klingons probably wanted to board us for hand to hand combat once the shields were completely down, then take what they could of the ship afterwards.”

“They wanted both the glory of the ambush and the prize of the ship. Probably someone looking to win a large claim to their honor,” said Worf, his face sour as he looked out of the ship’s window. He knew in his heart that it was good that the crew had survived to fight another day, but this battle was a dishonor that would follow him until the score was settled. 

Picard was familiar with the technique, it was how they got into this situation in the first place. A Starfleet vessel was found with a distress beacon saying they were in need of medical assistance, only for it to be a decoy surrounded by cloaked Klingon ships. By the time they got vitals on the Starfleet ship, they could see that the entire crew had been killed long before they arrived.

“Captain, I think you’ll want to take a look at this,” said Data.

Captain Picard got up from his chair and headed over to Data’s, motioning for his First Officer, Commander Riker to follow him.

“It seems there is only one planet with intelligent life in this system, Captain. However it hosts many multiple forms of alien life even more peculiar, some of them appear to be human,” Data said.

Commander Riker looked incredulously at Data, “So, we’re still in Federation territory then?” 

“Negative, Commander.” Data said, “It seems we are in an area that long ago broke away from the Federation, or perhaps had an identical evolutionary chain. Through the Klingon’s ion blast hitting us as we entered warp, and lack of charts or Federation data on anything surrounding us for hundreds of light years, I believe we’ve entered another galaxy.”

A stunned silence fell over the command deck. Captain Picard broke the silence after a moment with a reassuring tone to his voice, “Well, the impossible is only so until it isn’t. Today we’ve become the first star fleet vessel to enter into another galaxy, and I’ll see to it that we’ll be the first to return as well.”

Worf nodded his head slowly in approval, but was still suspicious of their chances, “Sir, I have all the faith that is possible in your abilities, but how are we to return to our galaxy when we cannot even tell which direction we’re supposed to go in?”

Riker glanced back at Data’s terminal, then up to Picard. He could tell they had the same thought, and Picard gave him a nod of approval to state it out loud, “Well there’s plenty of aliens on this planet, which means plenty of alien ships, someone might know where to give us a start in the right direction.”

“Well send an away team, composed of myself, Lt Worf, Data, and --” Picard immediately silenced, as Deanna Troy made a blood curdling scream at her station.

Riker was the first to rush over, putting his hand on her shoulder as he said “Deanna, What’s wrong?!”

Deanna wiped away sweat that was collecting on her brow, “such… hatred, I’ve never sensed anything like it before,” she strained to say. She took a moment to collect herself, but was struggling to do so, never before had her Betazoid senses sent every single fiber of her being given her such a strong wave of emotion. An obvious sign to run, and run far far away. But she knew her duty as a Lieutenant of Starfleet, that she was there to discover, not run away in fear.

“The wave of emotions is coming off from north of our ship. It feels like it’s coming off of a singular person as well. It’s slowly heading towards the planet and based on how fast they feel like they’re moving, I would say they would be there in around fifteen minutes,” Deanna said as she fully regained her composure. It was odd, she noted, that she could sense how quickly they were moving. Her betazoid senses had never worked that far away before, let alone getting estimates on time and distance.

“Best to get more information before we get into anymore conflicts. Lt. Data, can you get a scan on vessel?” Asked Picard

"Affirmative Captain. It appears to be a military vessel 33% larger than the Enterprise. There also seems to be a multitude of fighter ships within. It's difficult to get an exact number on the amount of fighters, but I would estimate it to be in the dozens. It’s heading in the direction of the planet, but I can make no word on if they’re planning to land on it. However, the fact that they have not yet teleported on the planet leans towards the idea that they do need to land on it in order to conduct any operations on it. They are also, as Lieutenant Troi suggested, fifteen minutes away " Said Data.

“Considering the state of our ship, I believe best to avoid them for the moment being. If we’re lucky it’s only looking for another ship, or conducting business on the planet. There’s a chance we can pass by undisturbed by one another. The last member of the away team will be Ensign Crusher,” Captain Picard said, then looked to Deanna. 

Though his lieutenant had gotten some of their confidence back, Picard had travelled with her for years, and tell that something was still shaken within her, “I know it will be difficult, but if you sense the evil presence get closer to the away team or the ship, alert us immediately so that we can retreat.”

Deanna gave a curt nod, “I’ll do my best, Captain.”

“Officer O’ Brien, are the teleporters functional and ready to go?” said Picard through his communicator as he and his away team went to the teleportation bay.

“Aye Captain, tell me when you’re ready,” responded Officer O’ Brien as the away team stepped into their places.

“Engage,” Captain Picard said.

The team was teleported away, and within an instant, found themselves materializing onto the alien planet. They found themselves surrounded by the lush greenery of tropical trees that stretched high into the sky, vines and foliage teemed with hairy and flying wildlife hooping and hollering their songs off in the distance. But past the wilds of the jungle was an aged castle carved from stone taller than any of the trees it casts its shadow over. 

The castle’s flags of every shade and color flapped in the wind and as a dirty white ship with a peculiar shape landed in front of it, it’s bright blue engines making a quiet hum as they powered down for landing.  
“Well, it seems we have our first lead,” Captain Picard said, as the crew headed towards the castle and the almost horse-shoe shaped ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Update 3/27/20:**
> 
> I can't think of anyway to tag it, but what better time than eventually to add context to the story? I have read a total of 2 EU books and they were split a full decade apart. OT Star Wars is like my cozy blanket of of Sci-Fi, The Last Jedi is like if somebody sewed a patch onto it that looks pretty weird but I appreciate a lot, and the other two movies are patches that are really darn uh .... characterful, but I appreciate the effort. This leaves the PT assomebody reading the blanket's material tag off behind me. Unnecessary but ... did you say camel hair? Wait, I got an idea for how I can re-purpose that into something else.
> 
> TNG is something I did not start watching until my senior year of college and I still have not finished it, somebody described it to me as, "A show you turn on when you just wanna see your friends hang out and talk with one another," and it has very happily met that mark for me.
> 
> Anyway, that was my way of telling you that this story may skew into really niche parts of the lore sometimes and other times just completely miss over things, c'est la vie, feedback is welcomed and encouraged. Writing is for fun and I hope you have as much reading it as I do writing it :D !
> 
> Tally ho for errors and adventure!
> 
> **-End Update-**
> 
> And so the story begins! I already have a few arcs planned for this and a pretty concrete ending in mind, so I hope you all enjoy it while we get there! If you're wondering where TNG this takes place, it's halfway through Season 4, and before you say "Hey FarisBeshma, is that just because you've only watched that far in TNG and you really just wanted to write about the characters?".... _we don't gotta talk about that_. As the story goes on I'll post the links to which arcs start where down here , so until then, I shall see ye later! Updates are<strike> (tentatively) on Wednsedays</strike> (so turns out working Sunday - Thursday isn't really conducive to that) Thursday before 9PM EST.
> 
> These are of course just approximations on how long the chapters will be at this current moment, and I fully reserve the right to extend them with just weird TNG episode style chapters.
> 
> Chapters [1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20684687/chapters/49130162)\- [5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20684687/chapters/50026661): First Contact.  
Chapters 6 - 20: Between Episodes IV and V  
Chapters 20 - 35: Episode V  
Chapters 35 - 50*Between Episodes V and VI  
Chapter 51-66 : Episode VI  
Chapters 66 - 69: Epilogue


	2. Old Friends in Low Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han and Chewie enter into Maz Kanata's castle to settle some business deals.

The Millenium Falcon descended onto the landing pad with a loud, and not necessarily reassuring hum. The blue lights of the engine gave a flicker, and from within the cockpit a quiet hissing noise could be heard coming out of one of the switches on the pilot’s control panel.

“Alright, dropping the landing gear,” Han Solo said as he went to pull the lever over his head so that he could ensure a safe landing.

Han’s arm muscles strained underneath his shirt as he tried to move the lever, but it refused to budge even an inch. He looked over to his co-pilot, a towering furball of a Wookie who was giving him an incredulous look.

Han put a hand to his chest in mock offense, “Hey, it’s been a nice few weeks of cruising around. You shoot Darth Vader out of the sky, save the Rebel Alliance’s tail, you earn some time of partying. I think I’ve earned a little bit of time away from the mechanics of---”

Chewebacca quickly interrupted with a loud roar as he shot daggers at Han.

“Sorry, we took down Vader. Leia told me she’d have the medal ready for you next time we stop by,” Han said. It was always within one's best interest to not upset a Wookie, and Han didn’t want to be whoever would tell Chewie that after fighting in the Great Battle for Kashyyyk and helping to destroy the Death Star, he would get squat.

“Anyways, last I could clearly remember this lever was only a little bit stiff, it just needs, “ Han began to take his time with his words, going in rhythm with his pushes on the lever, “A little. Elbow. Grease!” 

On his final try the lever began to move, as Chewie’s hand was placed over Han’s, pushing the lever with little effort at all.

“Thanks buddy,” Han said with a smile, as Chewie rolled his eyes and made a sarcastic growl of approval and nodded his head a few times.

The landing gear creeped out of the Millenium Falcon, and they came to a soft and stable landing on the makeshift landing pad of stomped out dirt and grass. 

The entrance ramp came out smoothly and tapped down on the earth, creating a small plume of dust. Unusual for Takodana to experience many dry seasons, but Han didn’t think much of it, instead, his attention was directed towards the massive castle in front of him. 

Maz Kanata’s Castle was something of a home away from home for Han. His longtime friend Lando had first introduced him to Maz during a ten day long festival at the castle, which ended up being a great way to network and find some good company on the ship for smuggler. After the festival, Maz’s became a place he would go whenever he needed a change of scenery from his frequent stops like the Mos Eisley Cantina or the many bars of Coruscant. Of course as a rebel agent, he was now very averse from going back to either. But that was besides the point, he was on a job, and his client was paying well.

Han and Chewie got to the moat of Maz Kanata’s castle, then looked past the colorful flags surrounding each inch of the building, up to the roof of the building and the massive statue of Maz with her hands stretched into the sky. Standing next to the statue was a scaly alien with gold colored skin, wearing a palette of pastel colored patches sewn together into haphazard clothes.They had a trio of fins as blue as the ocean on the top of their head, and large insectoid eyes that dashed to the smuggler duo.

“Halt! Who dares to enter the Castle of Maz Kanata?” Shouted the alien in a powerful voice.

Chewie shrugged and made a dismissive roar as Han locked eyes with the alien, then drew a circle in the air around his own face.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten this already, Bahsaum.”

The alien seemed to squint it’s large eyes for a second, then jumped from the top of the castle all the way into the moat with perfect diving form. Only a small splash of water was made as they hit the water. When they came back up to the surface they started moving their mouth as if it was making a loud whooping noise, yet no sound came out, to Han at least, Chewie was covering his fur covered ears in pain.

An alien looking similar to Bahsaum but black and white colored poked their heads out of the window, signalled that he heard him with a thumbs up, and began cranking a handle that lowered the bridge for the moat.

“Do you have to do that every time? One of these days you might make Chewie too angry to even leave the ship,” Han said to Bahsaum.

Bahsaum shook his head, “Sorry, it’s part of Forisch culture,” he said as he swam out of the way of the bridge, and pulled himself out of the water, “If I don’t give the dive of greeting, how are you supposed to know I like you?” he said with an earnest toothy grin.

Bahsaum offered his hand to Han, his skin covered in a viscous watery slime that dripped into thumb sized droplets on the ground.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Han said with a wink, and made sure to avoid coming into any contact with Bahsaum as he, Chewie, and Bahsaum headed into the castle. 

The inside of Maz’s castle was as it always was, a smoke filled haze packed shoulder to shoulder with aliens of every type from all across the galaxy. Taking a walk from the entrance to the bar, seeing a cybernetically four armed gungan rolling dice against a togruta while a zabrak took bets was about as unusual as somebody ordering a drink. 

Han and Chewie made their way through the crowd while Bahsaum departed from them, going down a long stone corridor to their side and up a flight of stairs, back to his guard post.

The smuggler duo’s experience was as usual, the crowd parted for the two of them to pass through. Everyone knew who Han was, he was the guy who owed them anywhere between one and a thousand credits, and would tell them he had it ready for them the next time he came in. However, they also knew he was one of the fastest shots in the galaxy, partly because he would shoot you the moment he knew a conversation was going south. If he didn’t shoot you, you had the wookie who was just as ready to rip your arm off.

This was however Maz Kanata’s castle, and in her castle, her way was law, and law was tradition. Which made for an unsurprising sight to everyone in the bar, when the short orange alien stood on top of her bar and shouted, “My boyfriend!” 

She used her patrons’s shoulders as stepping stones, leaping over to Chewie quicker than he could stick his arms up in protest. The moment she latched onto him, she coated him with a shower of kisses, while Chewie groaned in annoyance.

“What? Too cool to say you love me in front of your friends?” Maz asked with squinted eyes.

Chewie only made tiny, apologetic growls, as Han looked up to his best friend with a smirk, “I think you make a lovely couple.”

“I would hope. The third wheel’s approval is always necessary,” Maz said with a dry smile, then climbed off of Chewie and held his hand. “What are you here for today Han? On official business or just came to say hello?”

“I don’t see why it can’t be both. Besides, I think the three of us can use a place with a few less ears regardless” Han said.

Maz nodded in agreement, and the three of them walked out of the bar area, and down the same hallway Bahsaum had. Instead of going up the spiral staircase, they went down into the basement of the castle. 

The basement was a long winding path, dimly lit with candles that were placed in pairs on opposite sides of the walls, mere inches away from the ceiling. The path branched off into many different directions, creating a tangled network of tunnels that if one wasn’t careful with, they could find themselves spending the last of their days in.

There were carvings in some of the stones, in some language that was either made up by long forgotten pirates or by a society before the existence of the Common language. Judging by how often the handwriting changed, and how crude some of the images were, it reminded Han of home, it was obvious that it was some form of graffiti.

Han followed behind Chewie and Maz, the hand holding pair were his only hope of not getting lost in the tunnels. The only thing he could remember from his last time inside of them was a splitting headache, and sickness in his stomach caused by a poor choice in drinking order.

After a few minutes of walking Han felt himself getting much warmer they arrived at an end to the path they were on, where the light from a great fire pit could be seen in a massive circular room. The fire pit served as a resting stop of sorts, surrounded by one large marble bench that circled around it, with a metallic entry gate about three meters wide.

The group began to enter the room, when Maz stopped them. There were two shadows on the ceiling of the room, humanoid figures with devil like horns. Based on the shadows they were sitting far across from one another, making them just far away enough that Han and his group were out of their line of sight.

Han looked to Maz and motioned putting his hand on his blaster, but Maz shook her head, then slapped her hand on the entrance of the room while shouting,

“Hey, go do your plotting somewhere else! I have personal plotting to do in this room!”  
Two devorians, one white and one red, quickly left the room, tipping their heads to Maz apologetically. 

Han, Chewie, and Maz sat down together, Maz leading them to a spot opposite the entrance. She tapped her finger thrice on lower portion of the bench, and a tray slid out with an ominous looking black box, covered in the same type of graffitti that covered some of stones  
.  
“What the hell is that?” Han said.

Maz leaned on Chewie, and opened up the box, “Rock candy. Never expires, one of the last useful things the group before me left. Want any?” 

Han scoffed at first, but still took one, observed it with the light from the flames of the pit, and popped it into his mouth.

“Funny how the past always comes to give us the unexpected,” Maz pondered.

Han rolled the rock candy around in his mouth, thinking best how to broach the subject, and decided to go for it as up front as possible, “Speaking of which, we’re looking for a little something from the past that might be handy for the rebellion. The lost Coruscant Archives.” 

Maz nearly spit her rock candy right into the fire pit, “What makes you think I would have those?! Do you know how quickly the Empire would come crashing down on this castle if they thought I had that?”

“Maz, you and I both know the Empire would never come crashing down on the castle, it’s too good of a hub for information and the roguish type who don’t play sides,” Han said, comfortably stretching out as he put his feet on the railing of the pit. 

“Which you aren’t anymore? Heard you went and became a hero of the Rebellion while I was away.”

Han shrugged, thinking of his adventures with Leia, Luke, Obi - Wan, Artoo , and Threepio, “I’ve had a small change of heart, moments of glory will do that to ya.”

Maz nodded knowingly at Han, and became uncharacteristically silent as she took a moment to stare into the fire pit.

Chewie nudged Maz and made a concerned growl.

“Oh it’s nothing dear, sorry,” Maz said as she snapped back to reality. “Let’s say I do have the archives, what will I get in return?”

Han hadn’t honestly thought that she would have the archives, so he didn’t think this far ahead in his plan, but improvising was nothing new to him.

“After the war, the Rebel’s coffers are yours, name a price and they’ll give it to you,” Han said with confidence as he folded his arms across his chest.

Chewie made a roar of bewildered confusion, and Maz looked up to him, “I agree, that does seem a bit too generous. I prefer favors instead.”

Maz had a sly look in her eyes, but it wasn’t as if Han had much of an option on whether or not to get this information, so any deal was better than none.

“Done and done,” Han said, as he extended his hand out to shake on the agreement.

Maz put out her hand, and the moment they shook, all of their heads turned to the frantic footsteps coming their way. 

Bahsaum stood in the door frame, leaning on it in exhaustion as the fins on his head raised up and down in exhaustion.

“Maz! The Empire, the Empire is here!”

Maz gave Han a look that could’ve killed a rancor as they all leapt from their seats, and ran behind Bahsaum, heading to the top of the castle to see what exactly was going on.


	3. Oh the Places We'll Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Landing Party makes their way to Maz Kanata's castle, there are discoveries to be made and trials to be passed first.

The away team of Picard, Worf, Data, and Wesley were looking upon the oddly shaped spaceship with a shared expression of confusion. 

“Well it certainly isn’t anything from Starfleet, but it does appear .... functional,” Picard said.

“Functional? It looks like a piece of junk. If it looks this dirty on the outside, who knows what the inside is like?” Wesley Crusher said as he ran a finger on the outside of the ship. He made a disgusted groan when he looked at it his finger, it was covered in such a thick layer of dust and debris that he guessed it must of been years since the ship had last gone through a washing station.

The Klingon lieutenant had ran his hand along the ship, but with a reserved feeling of awe, noticing the dings and scratches on the ship.“Perhaps they live a life where they don’t feel the need to worry much about its appearance,” Worf said.

“I believe that the only way to come to a conclusion, is to ask the owner of the ship themselves,” Data said as he turned his attention towards the castle.

Picard nodded his head in agreement with Data, and they went off to the next step on their investigation.

Picard and Data were both remissed by the fact that this mission had to be done under such circumstances. So many new pieces of the universe to examine, but no time to do it

Aside from all of the alien wildlife and fauna they had come across so far, there were also all of the ships. On their way to get to the castle and the ship they had seen landing the moment they teleported to the planet’s surface, they had seen dozens of ships parked in the forest. One shaped like a missile with three wheels and a turret on the end, a few metal saucers of every size and color, and even a fighter ship with “X” shaped wings. Who knew what discoveries could be made with more time for observation, or discussion with such a diverse amount of cultures? No matter how much the two wanted to answer that question, It was one that would have to wait until they had made more progress into finding a way to at least repair their ship.

When the group got to the castle, they came to a dead stop at the moat and looked past all of the flags, up towards the giant statue of some humanoid creature of a race they’d never seen before.

“Captain Picard, do you think this is some sort of holy ground?” Wesley asked.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Picard said, “I believe it’s best to not make any assumptions. Though judging by the diversity of the flags and symbols on them, as well as the sheer size of the castle and the statue,it’s safe to say that this is a place held in high regard.”

The moment Picard finished his sentence, Bahsaum appeared from behind the statue. The Forisch put his fists on his hips as he walked towards the edge of the roof, then put one hand into the air and shouted, “Halt! Who dares enter the Castle of Maz Kanata?”

Picard took a moment to completely examine the man’s colorful garb. Wherever they were, it had a much different sense of decorum than Starfleet.

“I’m Captain Jean Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise. We are part of planetary alliance known as the Federation. Our ship has recently been damaged as well as knocked off course, so I came here to inquire for assistance.” 

“‘Inquire for assistance’ you say? Sounds like the talk of an Empire spy,” Bahsaum said as his eyes narrowed in on these strange visitors.

Data and Wesley looked confused, while Worf seemed to ready himself for combat, his eyes scanning out all of the spots they could be ambushed from. Seeing that they were out in the open, Worf whispered to Picard, “Do you wish for me to establish a defensive perimeter?” 

Bahsaum quickly reached underneath his shirt collar, and hurriedly pulled out a slim blaster rifle from within. “Unless you got some sort of bubble shield, I don’t think you’re going to be in for much luck.”

Picard waved away Worf’s offer. He noticed that this alien must have some form of acute hearing, and so he spoke at a normal volume, “That will be unnecessary, as a member of Starfleet I assure you that we’re on a purely diplomatic mission. I can only beg your forgiveness if we may appear a bit …” he glanced back to Worf, “Protective.”

Bahsaum scratched the side of his head with the barrel of his blaster, “Oh so first you say you’re with this ‘Federation’ and now you’re a member of ‘Starfleet’, it seems you’re catching yourself in your own lies, Mr. Spy.” 

“I’m sorry for the confusion mister … “ Picard said, waiting for Bahsaum to answer. There was a pause of silence that lasted longer than he was expecting before Bahsaum realized what was happening, and responded.

“Bahsaum of house Kanata, third generation member of the Kanata crew,” Bahsaum said proudly as he took his gun from his head, and held it at his side.

“Mr. Bahsaum,” Picard resumed, “If we were spies, would we come to the front gate of this castle, and ask to be let in?”

“You might, if you’re incompetent as your ridge-faced friend there,” Bahsaum said.

Worf made a sneer of anger as he clenched his fists, but knew it would be better to adhere to the protocol and let Picard handle the situation.

“Well however best you see to prove that we’re not spies, I’d gladly be willing to do,” Picard said as he held his hands in front of himself with a smile, trying to look as non-combative as possible.

Picard thought that Bahsaum seemed a little paranoid, and maybe not the brightest of guards, but there had been worse situations before. With enough diplomacy and conversation, they were sure to find a way to prove that at the very least they weren’t spies for whatever this ‘Empire’ was.

“Ok, ultimate test … “ Bahsaum thought, but he never really had to do a test like this before. 

Usually if someone came up to the gates they were in neutral clothing, and once they were inside, it didn’t really matter what they were up to as long as they didn’t cause a fight that affected the Kanata Crew directly. This was a place for rogues, and rogues knew the risk they had signed up for. A group of fully decorated military officials though? That was a completely different matter.

At worst they were going to perform a crackdown on the castle, and on a different but equally awful scenario they were going to try and throw a recruitment drive for the Rebels; A very nice way to end up with a castle wide shootout from both sides, with bystanders who wanted nothing to do with it caught in the crossfire. 

Therefore, Bahsaum discovered how to perform the ultimate test, leave it up to someone who was a much better judge of character than him. 

“Wait here, I’ll be right back with the test,” Bahsaum said as he went behind the statue, and down the staircase behind it. 

As Bashaum left, Picard and the rest of the away team turned to one another to discuss a plan.

“Captain, what’s a bubble shield? Don’t they mean deflectors?” Wesley asked.

“Perhaps it’s some sort of local slang, or it could be an alternate form of technology from our own. We’ll have to make sure to ask them when they return,” Picard said with a smile.

“Sir, that’s what concerns me the most,” Worf said, “We have no idea of what these people and they’re weapons are capable, so we should make sure to be on our guard,” he noticed his Captain’s smile. Worf’s eyes widened in confusion as he looked at the Captain.

“I understand that this is a rather alarming situation, Lieutenant Worf,” Picard said, “But it may also be one of the greatest days in Starfleet history. Not only have we found life outside of our galaxy, we’ve found intelligent life. Life that possess the same degree of technology for space travel as us and most importantly, a sense of camaraderie with their fellow species.”

Worf was looking at his captain with only a growing sense of confusion.  
Picard elaborated more, “None of the ships we have seen have many similarities. The diversity of their spaceships indicates that there is at least some form of cross species amicability.”

Mere moments ago they were in a galaxy with few interspecies relations, and humanity still trying to explore the confines of their own galaxy. Picard at least thought he was doing a good job of containing it, but his excitement over the possibilities of this new galaxy was palpable.

Unfortunately he couldn’t allow that excitement to override his main mission, the Enterprise crew needed to return to their galaxy immediately so that they could report the ship that had nearly destroyed them, and could very well be destroying other Federation ships at this moment. Not to mention that their entire lives were already spent in their own galaxy; the idea of keeping the entire crew of the USS Enterprise from ever seeing their friends and family away from the ship again was a scenario he couldn’t allow to happen.

Five minutes passed, but Bahsaum had not returned. 

“Captain, I believe this must be a very large castle that this fellow is in. Isn’t it best to leave the planet before the other vessel that Counsellor Troi mentioned arrives?” Data asked.

Picard thought for a moment, but waved away the notion, “We’re only asking for directions to a repair station and a map of the region. I see no reason as to why that vessel would come to this exact location when they have an entire planet to choose from, so there shouldn’t be too much of a rush. If it does however come to this location, we should leave here immediately.”

Picard and his crew were interrupted by a loud throat clearing cough. Turning their attention to the top of the castle they saw that Bahsaum had returned, now accompanied by a short orange alien that was giving them a withering gaze as she held her hands behind her. From behind her back she pulled out a steel megaphone, and shouted to the people below, “This is the castle of I Maz Kanata, I am her,” she said with a flourish of her hand, proudly placing it on her heart, “what do you want here?”

“Only directions and a map, with those we can be out of your way as quickly as possible,” Picard said.

There was a pause as the two stared at one another for a moment.

“What’s with the costume? Doesn’t look like any Empire dress up I’ve seen before,” Maz said, ” did the fashion designers on Coruscant decide to start showing some more colors than black and white?” 

Picard raised an eyebrow at the question, this was a perfect opportunity to figure out more about what exactly was happening in this area, “Empire? My crew and I are part of the Federation, we work as members of --” 

“Federation? The Trade Federation?” Maz’s incredulity was evident in her nearly tossing the megaphone out of her hand, “They’ve been destroyed for decades!”

“No, the United Federation of Planets. We’re rather new in the area, so what is this ‘Empire’?” Picard asked.

Maz’s eyes got so large that they looked like they were about to burst from her goggles “New to this area?! You must be new to this galaxy to be asking a question that stupid!”

Picard was about to respond when Data whispered to him, “Captain, I believe I have some pertinent information to this conversation.”

“Go ahead,” Picard said.

“Miss Kanata, I have recently finished some calculations and we are in fact new to this galaxy. To be precise, we are twenty one million light years away from our home galaxy, the Milky Way. Assuming we were going at our maximum speed of warp nine, it would take us six-trillion, nine hundred and thirteen million, eight-hundred and twenty-seven thousand, six-hundred and fifty-five point thirty-one days to return to our home galaxy.”

Maz and Bahsaum shared a completely flabbergasted look with one another.

“This is also assuming that the engines would sustain themselves for that long, or that we knew which direction we wer---”

“Bahsaum,” Maz interjected, “lower the gate. I have more questions and I don’t want to spend the entire afternoon shouting them.”

Bahsaum turned his head to the sky and made a shout that was inaudible to everyone present, minus the nod of acknowledgement that Data made, and the castle’s bridge descended.

“Come on in, I’ll meet you inside the bar,” Maz said as she went back inside of the castle.

Once Maz and Bahsaum had disappeared, Picard looked to his crew, “Strangers in a strange land it seems. They obviously pass the standards for the prime directive, but I don’t want the leaking of any information that could hurt the Federation. Is that understood?”

Picard relayed the message to the USS Enterprise, then led the away team into Maz Kanata’s castle.

The second they entered the castle they were greeted with a hit to the face by the mixing smells of thick clouds of various types of smoke and burning meats of dubious origin. On one of the tables stood a twi’lek singer, her sultry tones carrying throughout the bar, mixing in and out with the rabble of the patrons. The stone tiles of the floor were covered in burn marks, long forgotten spills of alcohol, and blood that had left the crudely carved out floor stained.

Starfleet standard, this was not.

Picard cracked a small smile at the sight. It reminded him of his early days as an ensign in Starfleet, hopping across new planets with his friends, and trying to get as much of a taste for the local culture before they left. Of course, Picard more often than not ended up being the designated driver, but helping his friends and getting to learn new stories and songs from locals was its own reward.

Picard turned to Wesley, who although he had a look of shocked disgust on his face from the conditions of the environment, still had a look of unsure excitement in his eyes too. He placed a hand on Wesley’s shoulder and said, “Remember, act becoming of a member of Starfleet.”

Wesley deflated a little, composing himself before Picard followed up with, “I would regret having to tell your mother too embarrassing of a story.”

Wesley smiled at his captain, and the two of them headed over to the bar where Worf and Data had already arrived.

They had managed to find a few empty seats for themselves, no small feat considering the amount of people that they had to squeeze between to get to the bar. This wasn’t too unusual of an occurrence though, with all of the measuring up Worf was doing of every patron, a few probably got uncomfortable and decided it was best to clear some space. 

They had expected to see Maz Kanata somewhere at the bar, but instead they only saw unfamiliar faces and what seemed to be a red and white bartending machine that was the size and shape of a small trash can and wheeled along the ground. 

The machine rotated its head, and its lenses locked onto Data as it made a rapid series of high pitched beeps at Data.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t my chassis, this is my skin,” Data replied.

The patrons at the bar turned their attention towards Data, as the bartending robot made a series of rapid panicked beeps.

“Sorry, but I am not aware of what a ‘protocol droid’ is. I am an android, but I do believe that adhering to protocol is an important tool to have.”

No sooner had Picard put his hand on Data’s shoulder to try and diffuse the situation, did he feel a tap on his own shoulder.

He turned his head to see a scruffly looking man covered in dirt and dust wearing a black sleeveless vest, a white undershirt, and a bemused look on his face. Next to him was a massive shaggy alien giving Picard and his crew a pensive look.

“Hey pal, is that friend of yours some sorta top of the line droid, or is he just pulling a joke on G3-E3?” 

Picard and the rest of the away team were speechless as they looked at the man and his companion, until Wesley blurted out, “Y - You’re human!”

The man looked at Wesley as only an adult who had heard possibly the stupidest sentence of his life could.

“Well, I’ve definitely never been mistaken for a wookie. Names Han Solo,” Han said. His attention turned to Picard, “And you must be Jean Luc Picard, Starfleet guy?”

Picard put his hand out for a shake, “Captain of the USS Enterprise, that’s correct. May I ask how you know who I am?”

Han shook his hand, then motioned a thumb to Gee, “The regular bartender told me, she should be here any secon---”

Maz Kanata pushed her way past Han’s leg and looked at the two of them shaking hands.

“Ah already shaking hands are we? Han and Jean, I think you two will like each other quite a bit.”


	4. Close Encounters with Every Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relationships and plans are made as Han Solo, Chewbacca, Maz, and the Starfleet team led by Picard have a discussion over drinks. Riker and Troi meet new acquaintances aboard the USS Enterprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9/25/19
> 
> Bad news, this is definitely the last set of double chapters I will be doing for a while.
> 
> Good news: I looked over my plot lines and realized one was so grossly unsatisfying, so bound for me to not deliver on it on any substantial way with the amount of weight being put on it, that I am shoving it much farther into the future, so this current arc will punchily conclude in the next chapter. See you then!

Maz ushered the group of Han, Chewie, and Picard with the rest of his crew away from the bar. It was a fine place to meet up, but to hold an entire conversation would be difficult with all of the interruptions that Gee was likely to make. 

Maz led them to a table with the least amount of patrons at it a couple of gamorrean pilots with what seemed to be their gungan guard. It was easy to tell their positions, because even though the boar-like aliens barely fit into their bright blue space suits, they wore them 

proudly with matching “Gamorrean Air Guard” patches on their sleeves. The gungan meanwhile, though looking like some comical amalgamation of a duck, a frog, and a dinosaur, was armed to the teeth, with a beaten and battered blaster rifle on his back, a chrome blaster pistol on his waist, and a sheathed blade attached to his hip.

Worf had sized up each of the members, noting that although the gamorreans were much more muscular than their lanky bodyguard, they didn’t seem in much shape to do anything if worse came to worse. His attention was instead drawn to the gungan’s sword, reminding him of those from his own culture.

“See something you like?” asked the Gungan

“Yes,” Worf and Han said at the exact same time. They shared a confused look with each other, then turned back to the gungan.

“That sword,” Worf said.

“That gun,” Han said at the same moment Worf spoke.

Worf made a scowl at Han and as he began to speak, Han interrupted, “Hey buddy, you’re the one talking over me, now before we get on with this conversation, can I ask my new friend here---”

Maz could see where this conversation was going, Han rambling them into some side adventure they needed no part in, so she decided to stop it before it could begin.

“Excuse me,” Maz said, ”we’re gonna need this table for a second, take a couple of free rounds at the bar on me.” Maz spoke with a kind enough tone, but she was jerking her thumb repeatedly to the bar to hurry them along.

Though the gamorreans looked a bit annoyed to be out of their spot, the gungan bowed his head to Maz.

“The pleasure would be ours, Miss Kanata,” he said as he rose from his chair, his compatriots following beside him.

As they left, Picard could hear the gungan mutter to the two pilots, “Respect, that’s what you two need to learn. You start using it, and you start getting ahead in this world.”

As the group of gungans and gamorreans went to the bar, Maz and the rest of them seated themselves at the round stone table. Maz sat herself between Han and Captain Picard, naturally seeing herself as the arbiter of the two. Picard’s group sat themselves down from the highest rank to lowest, leaving Data next to Picard, and Wesley next to Chewbacca.

“So, I have a proposition for you, assuming you don’t mess this up,” Maz said as she pointed her finger at Picard, “I need some proof that you’re really who you say you are. I ran all the way to the back exit to stop Han here and my wonderful boyfriend Chewbacca from leaving, so I don’t want to make it a waste of their time.”

Picard raised an eyebrow at the proposition, “In return for a mechanic and a map, I presume?”

“At the very least.” Maz said, “So do you have a way of proving it or not? I need to see something otherworldly, something out of this galaxy to convince me, Captain Starfleet.”

Picard thought for a moment, he could transport them onto the holodeck, but that would require teleporting them onto the ship, and although they were being helpful, he wasn’t certain that they were that trustworthy yet. Picard instead opted to place his palm flat open on the table, “Would you mind if I borrow something?”

Han reached into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of credit chips. He sorted through them in his palm for a moment before slapping his hand on top of PIcard’s, leaving the credits behind.

“Be careful, that’s my breakfast tomorrow,” Han said.

Picard eyed the credits for a moment, holding them up to the candlelight of the iron chandelier above them. His universal translator was still working on deciphering text, but the context clues were enough.

“Sorry,” Picard said, “It would … set a bad precedent.”

“What’re you gonna do, forge it?” Han asked incredulously.

Picard blinked, then put the credits back in Han’s palm. Han scoffed as he put the chips back in his pocket.

Han looked around for anything else he could use. He checked his pockets, but there was nothing else but dust and dirt. He looked under the table, but even that turned up nothing, well, nothing that resembled a solid object anyways.

Chewie let out a roar as he waved his arm over to the bartender, and a can of liquor was shot from a hole in the top of the astromech droid’s head, and was sent soaring their way. It was steel sphere and resembled a cannonball, except that it had a corked spout on top, and four tiny legs on the bottom to keep it from rolling off the table. The bottle hit the table hit the stone table square in the center with a dull thud that none of the patrons seemed to notice, too caught up in their own conversations.

Chewie pointed at the sphere, and made a rolling grunt as he pointed at Picard.

“Yes, I do believe this, ‘Kanata Crankshaft’ should suffice for this,” Picard said as he grabbed the bottle.

Han looked at Chewie and then to Picard, as if each of them had just grown three heads.

“Oh I’m sorry, did you take a course in speaking Wookie at Starfleet?” Han asked

“Actually, it’s our universal translators,” Wesley said as he pointed at his Starfleet badge. “They take any language and turn them into what our primary language is, so for me it turns everything into english, and then translates what I’m saying to the ears of whoever is hearing it.”

Han made a low whistle as he looked at the Starfleet crew.

“Hate to break subject for a second,” Han said, a bewildered look forming on his face, “but are you telling me that all of you only learn one language, and then just live your lives having those translators do your work for you? What if it falls off or you forget it on your ship?”

“A member of Starfleet would never make a mistake like that,” Wesley said, “And we learn other languages in school. I also know French, German, and Vulcan.”

Han rolled his eyes at the statement, typical of some child to think that just because he’s in part of some military, they wouldn’t make simple mistakes. The existence of a massive gaping hole on a planet destorying space station and years of working for the Empire had taught him that was a very stupid assumption to make, but there were more important things to do than explain that to a fourteen year old.

“So,” Han said as he turned his attention back to Picard, “about that drink.”

Picard held the bottle by the base, balancing it on his palm, then tapped his communicator on his free hand and said, “Lt. O’ Brien, please replicate this bottle.”

Like a mirage fading into thin air, the bottle disappeared from Picard’s hand. Han, Chewie, and Maz all looked taken aback, but before they could respond the unthinkable happened. Picard had a pleasant smile form on his face, as if he was watching ducks on a pond, he held out two open palms, where two bottles of Kanata Crankshaft slowly appeared in both of them, as if forming from thin air. 

“Listen buddy,” Han said as he checked behind them, then turned his attention back to Picard, “I don’t know where you come from, but doing some jedi trick like that isn’t really taken too fondly around here.”

“I assure you, this was no trick, just a part of the technology where I come from,” Picard said.

“The ability to duplicate things out of thin air? Where did you send it to? Who’s this Lt. O’ Brien you were communicating with?” Maz asked as she leaned across the table, her eyes straining as she tried to see any difference in the two bottles. 

“I’m going to guess I’ve done an apt job at proving we’re from another galaxy then?” Picard asked as he put the two bottles down on the table, letting Maz grab a hold of them as she held them to the candlelight overhead.

“Well, considering you just shattered my entire view of how all rules of time and space work, yes dear, I do believe you are from quite far away from this galaxy.”

“Fantastic, so where may we find a map of this region of space and a mechanic so we can be on our way?” Picard asked.

“Region of space? I’ll do you one better and give you one of the galaxy; It’ll come with a key for what areas are Rebel controlled and which are Empire, so make sure to use it carefully. As for the mechanics, I believe you’ve already had a brief meeting with them,” Maz said as she thumbed towards the two gamorrean pilots and their gungan bodyguard. “Heffy, Sett, and Wor Lor should get you back to business in no time.”

“You keep speaking of this ‘Empire’,” Picard said as he folded his arms, “Who exactly are they, or the Rebels for the matter?”

Han, Chewie, and Maz all shared a glance before saying anything else.

A new ally with technology they had never heard of could help the Rebels win the war, or they could be Empire sympathizers. Han knew that if he wanted to sway them to their side he would need to say something that appealed directly to them, but he didn’t even know them well enough to say anything that would truly appeal to them. That was, except for one thing,

Han pointed to Worf and then to Picard, “The Empire are people who would hate your whole organization, especially what you two have going on here,” he said.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” Picard said.

“Racist, they hate anything that isn’t human,” Han said. “The Empire are warmongers that only cares about establishing dominance and crushing anyone who isn’t like them. They only use alien races as pawns until they quit being good for business.”

Worf looked at Picard, as Picard placed his hand on the table and stared Han dead in the eyes, “If true, that is the antithesis of what Starfleet stands for. The diversity of life is what gives it its ability to create and make discoveries that propel all life as we know it. The light of each life snuffed out by nothing but hatred of someone’s race only serves to dim all of our futures.”

Han clapped his hands together and pointed at Picard, “Yes, exactly, so we’re on the same page,” he said. 

“The Rebel Alliance on the other hand considers all races equal. Once we win the war, we’ll reestablish the Republic to bring balance to the galaxy, just like it used to,” Han said. He noticed he sounded a little robotic, Leia had spent days trying to drill the lines into his head, but he still felt the most comfortable saying it his way, “And failing that, it’ll be a lot better than Empire rule at least.”

“Well, if what you say is true, I do believe that the Rebel Alliance would hold most closely to our ideals,” Picard said. He saw a grin forming on Han’s face and continued, “That being said we are only looking for a way to get back home, and it is against starfleet code to blindly get involved in Galaxy wide conflicts.” 

“Listen, no one’s looking to get you involved in a galaxy wide conflict, it’s just that Maz and I had a quick chat before you guys came along and decided you may need a little help getting to your destination. We’ll show you to a reliable repair station, hell we’ll even show you every nook and cranny in the galaxy that you can think of. The catch? I’ll be the one showing it to you, and all I ask in return is access to that copy making machine of yours,” Han said, his hand resting on the pocket which he held the Coruscant archives in. “We got a deal?”

Picard did in fact, not want this deal. His crew’s life was not something he wanted to gamble on the rumors of acquaintances in a bar, but it wasn’t like they had many choices. The ships and whatever had shocked Troi were surely on their way them sooner rather than later, and if they were a threat to them, it would serve them best to at least use the services of the Rebel Alliance, while doing their best to avoid direct conflict with the Empire.

“I will consider your offer Mr. Solo,” Picard said. “But keep in mind, I am not going to sacrifice my crew’s wellbeing for a conflict we barely know the breadth of. Is that understood?”

“Then we’ll do some bonding, I’m sure you’ll see that helping the Rebels will be something you’re more than happy to do before the week is over,” Han said.

The negotiations successful, Han made a whistle through his two fingers and waved for the waiter to come over.

“Hey Golly, mind gettin’ us some grub for the table? And tell Gee to start mixin’ some drinks in his dome, we got some friends to impress!”

Data’s attention immediately turned to Picard, “Captain, the ship is close enough that I believe staying for a full meal may not be the best decision available to us,” he said.

“Ship?” Han, Maz, and most likely Chewie said in unison.

_____________________________  
  
Onboard the USS Enterprise, Riker was sitting patiently in the command chair. Riker and Troi, along with the next qualifying members available, had been listening in on the conversations that were occurring within Maz Kanata’s castle while they sat in the bridge, while La Forge and Crusher were busy with their stations.

Because of the sustained damage to the ship, most of the officers were without computers, left instead to patiently listen to the conversation as they weighed the situation over in their heads’ and made small talk with one another.

Spirits on the bridge were optimistic, but still tense from the Klingon ship’s attack. It was good that the landing team had made such progress in so short an amount of time, but there were still the matters of the ship’s damage and the injured personnel to keep them worried. Not to mention that they had no idea what the weapon capabilities of people of this galaxy were like, for all they knew they were either the most powerful ship in the galaxy, or could be destroyed by a single torpedo from a fighter ship. There was also the added existential threat of the hateful energy that Troi had sensed, getting closer and closer to their location.

“Captain,” Troi said over her communicator. “I believe Data is correct, the ship should be approaching the range of the planet at any second now. Do you believe your negotiations are almost fin---”

Troi felt her voice come to a crawl in her throat, as an icy chill filled her entire being. Her betazoid senses went off like fireworks as the wave of raw emotion came crashing over her again, but it felt different this time. If the first encounter was one of a sledgehammer going through the glass wall of her mind, this was a poisonous gas that she can now feel trying to slowly destroy her from within. 

She didn’t see him at first, her only hint to his physical presence being the labored and machinated breathing coming from behind her chair.

She leapt from her seat and turned to see a towering figure covered from head to toe in sleek dark metal. Troi could tell that he was a man, or at least had been at some point; all of the pieces of technology on his suit, the beeping control panels and regulators on his armor looked like a variation of the cybernetic armor the borg wore. By how many pieces of technological support he had on him he should’ve been dead, but here he was, alive and ready to kill.

He stood still as a statue, but even from behind the mask that covered his face, Troi could sense the murderous intent, yet it was conflicted with something else. The curiosity of a cat the moment before it snaps its prey’s neck.

“Deanna, is everything alright?” Riker asked as he stood from the command chair, his phaser already drawn to the spot that Deanna was staring in shocked awe at.

“Don’t you see him?! The man standing right there!” She said pointing to what to Riker, and everyone else on the bridge, looked like nothing but empty air.

Riker didn’t understand exactly what Troi was talking about, but it wouldn’t have been the first time Starfleet dealt with an invisible opponent. He set his phaser to it’s lowest stun setting, and blasted at the floor of where Deanna was pointing.

“Did I get him?!” He shouted as he scanned the room, trying to think of where else they may have gone, watching the doors to make sure they hadn’t already run out through them.

“Another force user?” The figure said, disregarding the phaser blast as if it was a breeze of dust as it the floor beneath them. “I believe this shall be interesting.”

As quickly as it came, the figure was gone, leaving Troi confused as she composed herself. 

“The force?” Troi said to herself, she would’ve scanned the room, but all senses of the hateful energy were gone now. She could feel it slowly receding into itself.

“Status report! Is everything alright on the bridge?” They heard Picard request over their communicators.

Riker looked to Troi, and she didn’t even have to speak before he took the words right out of her mouth, “I believe that the danger that Counsellor Troi felt from earlier is heading our way captain, it would be best to leave here as soon as possible.”

A repetitive beep rang throughout the bridge, someone was trying to establish communications. For a moment, no one on the bridge made a move. Based on what happened to Troi, the event seemed all too conspicuous, but that didn’t give any reason to not answer the call.

As a First Officer of Starfleet, Riker’s years of experience had taught him that fear, for the most part, was only a distraction towards progress. So with little second thought, he looked to the communications officer on the bridge.

“Private Turner, Open the channel and establish video communications,” Riker said.

The communications officer was lucky enough to still have a functioning terminal, but she still seemed to be struggling with something on its screen.

“It seems they don’t have access to video, Captain. Establishing voice communication,” she said. 

“This is Grand General Cassio Tagge of the Empire. State your business in this system unless you wish to become debris!” a harsh voice said over the speakers. 

It had been a while since Riker had heard a voice that pompous, but as per protocol, he responded as formally as possible. Besides, this was their chance to see if the Empire was truly as hostile as Han said they were.

“This is First Officer Riker of the USS Enterprise. We’re part of an organization called Starfleet and happen to be a little off of the beaten course. Do you think you could give us some assistance?” Riker asked.

“Lower your shields first and allow us to board, then we’ll talk about assistance,” Tagge said.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that without me at least having some clue as to who or what I’m dealing with, do you have any type of video communication onboard your ship?” Riker asked.

A derisive snort was the first thing the bridge crew heard as a response.

“We’re not going to send some droids with a family photo of our whole crew to you if that’s what you’re asking,” Tagge said.

A look of confusion spread across the bridge. Did they somehow have hologram technology, but no access to videos? Riker had opened his mouth for a way to diplomatically ask the question, when the Empire’s Supreme General continued talking on the speaker.

“First Officer eh? Which means the real Captain is already away, am I right?” Tagge asked. “There’s only about a dozen pigsties to go to on this outer rim planet, and something tells me you went to the one that happens to be a hub for Rebel spies to meet at. A strike force and ships have already been sent to the castle, whether you want to lower your ships and let us aboard first, or we can see if your captain is there and have our answer to where your allegiance lies given to us.”

“The communication lines have been cut, Captain Riker.” Private Turner said.

“Well,” Riker said over his communicator to Picard, “It seems that Han’s story checks out.”


	5. Tagge Style Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first contact between the Empire and the Federation begins.

“Shields to full potential power and prepare the phasers.” Riker said to the crewman in control of the weapons, as the Empire ship held still in front of them.

“Our shields can still only go up to 20%, but the phasers are ready to go. There’s no risk of radiation leakage so we better let it rip when we fire or else we’ll be done before we can even get the boarding team back on the ship,” La Forge said from the engineering bay.

The USS Enterprise was a powerhouse in its galaxy. At around a half a mile long and housing nearly a thousand personel the ship was one of the pride and joys of Starfleet. But yet, they were nothing but a speck to Tagg’s ship, and he could feel the hairs rise on his back as he watched it position itself right outside of the planet’s atmosphere.

The Super Star Destroyer headed by Supreme General Tagg, the Annihilator, was well over ten times their size and judging by their sensors, was brimmed to the teeth with laser weaponry; turbolasers, but lasers nonetheless. The lasers wouldn’t be powerful enough to do any damage to the Enterprise by themselves but the ion weapons they had could pose a threat to their shields, and from there it was all up in the air. The Annihilator also strangely seemed to lack any torpedos and had one strangely archaic piece of technology on it, a tractor beam. The most disconcerting factor was the hangar bay, which held ships that they couldn’t make any judgements on until it was possibly too late.

The bridge crew held their breath, waiting for their opponent to make the next move. The silence of the bridge was broken by a rapid series of pings, first one, then ten, over a hundred, as ships flooded out of the hangar bay of the Annihilator. A majority of them headed towards the USS Enterprise, while about two dozen headed toward the planet.

The moment Riker saw the ships leave, he channeled his communicator to Picard, “Captain, they’re sending out all the stops, you need to get back in here before they turn that castle into a graveyard!”

* * *

The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. Within moments the bar would descend into complete madness, and Starfleet’s mission very well could end before it began. The moment he finished hearing Riker’s message to him, Picard put his communicator to their Transporter Chief.

“Officer O’Brien, prepare to bring us aboard,” Picard said.

“System readied, we’re ready when you are, Captain,” O’Brien said.

Picard leaned towards the smugglers across the table from him, trying not to draw any attention to themselves.

“The Empire is currently on their way to this location, and about to begin combat with my ship. It’s imperative that we all leave as quickly as possible,” Picard said as he put his hand to his communicator. “We can leave this area as quickly as that bottle of liquor did, but we need to make the decision now; do you want to come with us or not?”

Han looked at Picard incredulously and for once in quite some time, was speechless. Maz had already sprinted out of her seat, disappearing into the crowd in an instant. Chewie stood up, not only to look for Maz, but to see if there were already Empire troops that had snuck into the building.

Han broke out of his stupor as he saw Chewie stood up. He took a deep sigh before saying anything, and ran his hand through his hair as he spoke, “so let me get this straight, you want to dissolve us into thin air, put us into some spaceship, and then leave here? No thanks buddy, I have my own ship to use, one of the fastest in the galaxy.”

The Starfleet crew, minus Data, looked at Han as if he had just happily jumped into his own death.

“Hey don’t give me that look, you’re ship is in the sky too right? I’ll---”

“Actually,” Wesley interrupted, “We’re pretty far outside of the atmosphere, we can teleport down to a planet without having to be so close to it.” 

Somehow, Wesley managed to have a condescending and panicked face at the same time, which wasn’t something Han found himself to be a huge fan of. Han rolled his eyes at the young Ensign and said, “Ok kid. I get to my ship, you guys get an ID tag on my ship, I get an ID tag on your ship, I scramble mine and send you the new one so only you can follow, and we get to the destination, sound like a plan?”

Picard, Data, and Wesley were all beginning to say something, anything to clarify the plan that was just given to them, before Han stood up from the table and clapped Chewie on the shoulder.

“Great, see you the--” Han was interrupted, ever so briefly, by the doors of Kanata Castle bursting into a rain of flames and splinters, as he and most of the other patrons of the bar were sent hurling to the floor.

* * *

“Commander Riker, the ships are going into formation! What should we do?” Said one of the crewman on the weapon’s system. 

The ships heading for the Enterprise went high and low, making a clear line of sight between the Enterprise and the Annihilator. The radar showed the ships heading towards them were of every type, fighters, bombers, and interceptors.

It was obvious that the enemy was either unsure of the Enterprise’s capabilities or wanted to end the fight as quickly as possible, sending every type of starfighter at them. 

It was a fool’s errand to try and pick off the starfighters one by one, so Riker went for the most obvious target.

“Fire at the enemy’s capital ship with the phasers,” Riker said.

The phasers burst from the battered Enterprise, and hit the Annihilator square in the middle of its top side. A grin formed over Riker’s face as his suspicions were confirmed, the Annihilator was ages behind them technologically.

“Enemy shields are already at 50% after just that first blast!” the crewman said.

A barrage of Ion blasts came off of the Annihalitor’s cannons, slamming the Enterprise with over a dozen shots, yet the shields did not fall. In fact, they seemed barely damaged.

The starships had finally made their way to the Enterprise, and they swarmed it like hornets. The Enterprise was engulfed by starships firing an endless torrent of lasers, ion blasts, and even missiles, but they seemed to be completely ineffective. 

“Shields are at 19%!” An ecstatic La Forge shouted over his communicator to Riker. “Here I was worrying how much I was going to be running around in engineering to keep things running!”

“That only leaves the Starships to deal with. If we destroy the capital ship they won’t have anywhere to go but the planet, and judging by what General Tagge has has shown so far, that doesn’t exactly sound like the best outcome,” Riker said. His mind all ran with images of the Empire doing strafing runs on all the civilians on the planet, a massacre out of spite and desperation. Riker didn’t want to embroil Starfleet in a civil war the second they got into this galaxy, but it didn’t seem he would have that luck; least he could do is prevent an unnecessary slaughter.

There was one thing that was nagging at Riker’s head though, why hadn’t Picard already gotten back aboard the ship? Riker knew that his Captain was on an important mission, but he would’ve said something to him by now if he was being delayed. If he wasn’t being delayed, then he was in some sort of situation where he couldn’t get to his communicator. Riker clenched his jaw at the thought of it.

“Officer Troi, open up the communications panel with General Tagge’s ship. It’s time to offer him the terms of surrender, he should realize how outgunned he is,” Riker said.

Troi began to open up the panel, but that invasive feeling of rage from before felt like it was clouding her head, as if it was … swarming. 

“Affirmative, Commander Riker,” Troi said, “The man from earlier though, the one emitting all of that energy that I sensed, I believe he’s in one of the starships surrounding us.” She could’ve sworn she would be more afraid when she said it, but thanks to how well their ship was doing, she was actually beginning to feel more at ease. If he couldn’t even break through the shields of their ship, what did she have to worry about? 

The armorclad man may’ve found some way to get onto the bridge, but he was likely some sort of vision or advanced hologram. Otherwise, why would he be wasting his time in some starship? It stood to reason that there was no need to fear him in this very moment, so her job became much easier. 

“Well, at least it seems he’s ineffectual,” Riker said to Troi with a smile, but his worry over Picard was easy for her to sense. 

Troi smiled back at him warmly and opened the communications panel, once again to be greeted by only the voice of Supreme General Tagge.

“What is it you want? To beg for mercy in the face of defeat?” Tagge asked.

“Funny, I was thinking of asking you the same question,” Riker said as he leaned back in the command chair. “That was only the first level of our phasers, either leave this space at once or we turn them on to full power.”

“Oh, Captain Riker, you will soon see how pointless of an idea that is. You may not have encountered it before, but you’re about to learn why the Imperial Army is feared throughout the galaxy.”

* * *

Patrons scattered for cover and exits as four Imperial Stormtroopers marched into the building. The troopers were led by a trooper in heavy dark plated armor, carrying a heavy blaster in one hand, and the bloodied and unconscious Bahsaum by the collar of his robe. 

“This is the face of a man who hesitated about complying with our orders,” The dark plated trooper said as she tossed the doorman for Kanata Castle face first onto the stone floor. “If all of you are willing to comply with the orders of the Empire, you’re fate may include less bloodspill.”

Picard’s world was spinning, he looked to the stone floor and saw a small splatter of wet blood. He put his head to his temple and saw his fingers were red, he must’ve hit his head and gotten knocked unconscious for a moment. 

Picard put his hand to his communicator, his voice weary as he spoke, “Officer O’Brien, it’s time to transport us and the two nearest people to myself aboard immediately!,” he said as he double checked to see that Han and Chewie were still near him, thankfully they were, but they were busy collecting themselves as well. 

Picard waited for a response back from O’Brien, but heard nothing. He tapped his communicator again, only to realize that it wasn’t making its standard noise of a quick beep, but instead a low static hiss. He tried tapping it a few more times, but only to the same effect, someone must’ve been jamming their communications.

The rest of the Starfleet crew was busy dealing with their own share of issues. Wesley seemed to be unconscious, laying on his back with his eyes dead shut. Worf and Data were already working on flipping the massive stone table on its side to build some cover between themselves and the imperial troopers. If Worf was trying to move it on his own it would’ve been a struggle, but with Data’s help it was easy as lifting up a pillow.

While the table was lifted Chewie was busy readying his bowcaster, and Han was slapping Wesley back and forth across the face.

“C’mon, kid,” Han said to Wesley, “You can have bedtime once you get home.” Han looked to make sure they were all safely behind the table; they were, more or less, and grabbed his blaster the second he saw Wesley starting to come to. Han leaned out from the table, but before he could let off a shot, someone screamed from behind the table.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this!” screamed the armed-to-the-teeth gungan from earlier, standing on top of the bar.

The imperial trooper’s attention was immediately turned to the gungan, their weapons focused on him as he ducked back behind the counter, a hail of blaster fire following him.

Han would’ve never counted the gungan as one for a death wish when he first saw him, but who would he be to tell the guy to stop? Han looked to Picard, who was readying his phaser and said, “Alright, I think I’m willing to give the teleportation thing a shot. Put us at the shipyard and we can split up from there.”

“I would, but it seems our communication is being jammed, someone must have a radio jammer on them nearby,” Picard said.

“Great, well --” Han stopped as he saw a thermal detonator fly over his head and his eyes went wide. “Everyone hold on!”

Picard grabbed Wesley and held him tight as he pushed his back into the stone table, his officers and the smugglers hunkering for cover at his sides.

A loud explosion rang throughout the building as it shook from the force of the building. Han peeked from around the corner, and saw that all of the stormtroopers laid on the ground, if they weren’t dead, they were very close to it. The only one who seemed to be holding onto life was the death trooper, and they were on their hands and knees.

The patrons who were cowering underneath their tables now made a break for it, running for any exit they could find, with a few even so brazen as to run past the death trooper and their squad!

The gungan came charging out from behind the counter, Han had always heard they were a jovial enough people, but this one looked to be in a blinded frenzy.

“After I kill you, I’ll take your ship,” the gungan said as he pulled the ancient looking sword out of its sheath, the light from the candles glowing off of its silver colored blade. “Then I can fly right onto the capital ship and kill your general myself.” He readied the blade over his head, readied to skewer the death trooper. “Your people will pay for the crimes against Naboo!”

“N-no, please don’t!” Han couldn’t believe what he was hearing, was this death trooper actually scared? 

“The final words of an imperial coward,” The gungan said as he thrust the blade down at her, sealing his own death.

The death trooper’s reflexes were so quick that they seemed nearly superhuman, as she raised her guard with her forearm, deflecting the blade away with a sharp grind as the two metals met one another. Thanks to her momentum from leaping up and the gungan’s momentum from lunging downward, her fist connected into the gungan’s ribs with a sickening crunch. “A vibrosword, how quaint,” She said as the gungan began sinking to the floor, his vibrosword dropping to the ground as the air left his lungs. 

She took a step back and threw her hips into the next punch, a haymaker into his ribs, causing the gungan to spit blood as he stumbled backwards to the ground, the only thing stopping him from landing on his back were his hands planted on the ground. The gungan was only moving on sheer willpower, and the death trooper saw the weakness in her enemy. She grabbed him by the base of his skull and rammed her plated knee like a machine gun into his chin, leaving his body unresponsive over Bahsaum’s. 

“Enjoy drowning,” The death trooper said as she watched the blood collect in the gungan’s mouth, picked up her gun, and stepped over the two of them.

The death trooper quickly checked behind herself, saw that most of her troopers were unresponsive, and grabbed her blaster rifle off of the ground. She got as far as one step before Worf had popped out from the cover, peering over the table as he pointed his phaser at the death trooper, set it to maximum power, and shot at her chest.

She staggered backwards and her armor glowed a dull red for a moment, before she looked down at her armor, and Worf swore he could see the relieved shock through her helmet.

“An unfamiliar race. You’ve made this mission much easier,” The death trooper said as she primed a stun grenade. 

More stormtroopers began coming through the exploded front door.Three more squadrons charged through the entrance like a great wave crashing through the building.Han knew when to try and be brave and when to call it quits, this was an easy choice.

“Run!” Han shouted as he pointed to the back of the bar, to a small corner where only a bathroom could be seen. “Trust me!”

Chewie, Data, and Worf fired off all the shots they could. Worf’s were still ineffective as they hit the death trooper, each blast looking like it only annoyed her slightly more than the last. Data and Chewie were picking off stormtroopers nearly as quickly as they were flowing into the building, but they couldn’t keep up as more entrances were being blown into the castle.

Picard was busy carrying Wesley along, trying to shield his body from fire as they ran from the gunfight. He could’ve tried to fire at them with his phaser, but drawing anymore attention to them would’ve been a quick way to get both of them killed. 

“Wh...where are we going?” Wesley asked quietly. It was all he get the energy to say, he was nearly tripping over his own legs as he tried to shake off the cobwebs in his head.

“We are getting to safety, just focus on moving one leg after the other.” Picard said.

The death trooper threw their stun grenade, and Han whipped his attention to it as quick as lightning, shooting it in the air as it arced towards them. The grenade burst into a bright blue halo of light that rapidly expanded throughout the room, nearly hitting Han, Chewie, and Data before it contracted back in on itself. On the ground laid Worf, Picard, and Wesley. The only silver lining was that the death trooper and about a dozen stormtroopers had been hit as well.

Data was the first to turn his attention to his fallen friends. He immediately grabbed Worf, the closest person to him, and threw his limp body over his shoulder. When he went to go pick up Picard and Wesley next, the android was hit with a laser that caused him to stagger backwards, leaving a smoking black mark on his chest.

Han hurriedly put his hand on Data’s back to keep him in place, “There’s no time!” he shouted, his face frantic, eyes full of panic as he scanned the room. 

Stormtroopers were now truly flooding the building. The entire bar would be a mass of storm troopers soon, there wasn’t any time to waste trying to grab people just to be shot the moment you reached your hand out.

Han lunged to Picard and Wesley, and Wesley twitched his hand. Han yanked Wesley from underneath Picard’s unconscious body with all of his strength, while Chewie turned his bowcaster to rapid fire, shooting a flurry of bowcaster bolts with one hand as he threw a thermal detonator at cluster of stormtroopers with another. 

Han gave one last look to Picard, as he, Chewie, and the remaining members of the boarding team followed Han went into the next room. A pang of self-loathing filled Han as he looked at Picard, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it, it was time to get out of this mess alive. The second he saw everyone was in, Han kicked the door behind them, and propped it with a door stopper. He handed Wesley off to Chewie, and then kicked open one of the stall doors.

“I do not believe this is the best time for that,” Data said as he looked to Han, his phaser pointed at the door as he made sure Worf was kept perfectly balanced over his shoulder.

“Oh, it is,” Han said as he flushed the toilet ten times, mashing at the handle like a madman until the water in the toilet overflowed. As the water flooded onto the tiles, they began to look as if they were warping out of shape, almost dissolving into the ground.

Han and Chewie stomped the dissolving floor as Chewie held Wesley over his head, making sure he wouldn’t get in the way of his process. “C’mon, you too!” Han shouted at Data.

They could hear blaster fire hitting the wooden door now, but strangely enough to Data, the door seemed to not be taking any significant damage. He took a brief second to walk to the door, put his phaser away, pinch away a splinter of wood from the door, and put it in his pocket. He then walked over to where Han and Chewie were, stomped the floor once, and watched . 

The death trooper pierced the door with the vibrosword, splitting it apart like rice paper, but when they opened the door, they saw nothing. All that remained was a mud filled bathroom with half of the stalls sunken into the floor.

* * *

“I’ve just received a message from one of the members of our strike force, and it seems we have captured one of your operatives.” General Tagge made no attempt to restrain the smugness in his voice.

“Is that so? Do you have any proof of this capture?” Riker asked.

“Do I sound like a man that would bluff?” Tagge said.

Riker immediately turned his communicator to the loudest volume possible and put it on speakerphone, just to make sure that Tagge could hear him clearly, “Mr. La Forge, what percentage are our shields currently at?” 

“Why after that last full frontal assault, commander? Where we didn’t dodge a single thing? I think we’re at about 1%--”

“Aha! I knew you were falsifying your readings, no one could stand up to the might of the Empire’s Navy like that!” Tagge interrupted.

“Less than when we started this interaction,” Geordie finished.

A palpable pause filled the ship, as Tagge’s silence spoke volumes. Through gritted teeth, the general spoke once more, “You have not seen the entirety of the Empire’s arsenal.”

This was getting ridiculous. Riker had enough experience to know what Tagge was attempting, if they had captured anyone, whoever they had captured they needed alive. They definitely had the means to kill whoever may have been captured, but that wasn’t what they were looking for.

The arrogance Tagge was speaking with showed it all to Riker, he not only hated the disadvantage he was in, but wanted to inflict it on other people. Everything pointed to Tagge not just being a man who wanted to crush everything beneath him, but deeply feared being crushed the same way. 

The best way to avoid being crushed for someone like Tagge, someone who’s first instincts are to make demands and attack; Take the tools of whoever is beating you and crush them first.

“Oh, we’ve seen quite enough. Return the captured members of Starfleet, or we will be forced to destroy your ship before our personnel can even be brought aboard your ship,” Riker said. He pointed to the Annihilator as if it was a fly he was trying to brush it out of the way, “Fire phasers once again.”

Tagge’s ship was once again blasted by the terrifyingly precise energy of the ship’s phaser, which tore through half a dozen imperial fighter ships in its way. The readings came up on the computer screen the moment it had happened, the Annihilator’s shields were now completely offline.

“This is your last warning, General Tagge! Capturing a few of our personnel isn’t worth the lives of your entire crew!” Riker was getting more frustrated and confused with the second each second it went on. Tagge was faced with odds where he stood no hope, a David and Goliath where Goliath couldn’t even hurt David if he wanted to, yet he refused to surrender? And for what, the hope of maybe extracting information?

Riker was running out of time, the boarding team hadn’t resumed communications with them yet. Either he could stall and wait for them to resume communications, leaving as soon as he beamed them aboard, or he could decide to win this fight and send out a mass message to all of the ships in the area afterwards to return the Starfleet personnel to them immediately. If he chose to destroy the flagship, he would be embroiling Starfleet in an intergalactic conflict, but they had already done that when this conflict began. If he waited any longer, Tagge may escape with whoever they had captured. Riker hadn’t seen any personal ships get back onto Tagge’s ship, so it was time to make the choice.

The Annihilator fired one last barrage of all its weapons at the Enterprise. Their shields dropped one percent. Riker stooded from the command chair, “Fire the phasers, destroy the ship.” 

The phasers shot off from the Enterprise, and spiraled into a lazy arc, sailing clearly past the Annihilator.

Riker’s brow arched in confusion as he looked at the Annihilator. “Recalibrate the aim and fire again,” he said.

“Will do Commander, but the calibrations don’t seem to have changed at all,” Geordie said.

“Ah,” General Tagge said, his voice more bitter than anything else, “It seems the Lord Vader has decided to show himself.”

In the space between the Enterprise and the Annihilator, there was a singular ship floating completely still. Vader’s ship watched the Enterprise stood in place, as the starships of allies retreated back to the Annihilator, leaving Vader alone, drifting in the void.

Riker took the hint. “Aim at the starfighter in front of us and fire again.”

They fired off another blast from the phaser, but Vader’s ship didn’t move, as the phaser’s blast narrowly curved underneath his ship. The phaser blast went to Takodanna’s atmosphere, and would’ve made a direct hit on the planet, luckily the trajectory made it so it only skimmed the surface, casting a bright orange light on the planet’s sky as it bounced back into space.

“The fighter ship is hailing us for a call,” Troi said, as she felt the hair raising on her neck. She knew who it was before Riker even gave the go ahead to patch them through.

The voice on the other line said nothing at first when they connected to the Enterprise, only making a rhythmic deep breathing assisted through a machine, as the Enterprise and Vader watched one another. Riker had a troubling feeling in his gut that this matchup was about to get balanced very soon.

“It’s him, the man from earlier.” Troi said. Her knuckles went white as she gripped her computer, trying to think of what she could do for her next move..

There were no words, no speeches of supremacy made, the communications were cut, and Vader’s assault began.

His ship rocket towards the Enterprise, careening over the command bridge as it began shooting at the engines, unloading on it with a storm of laser fire.

“Reduce phasers to 10% of maximum power, he seems to have some sort of deflective equipment!” Riker said as he watched radar. The idea that the Empire had a device that could deflect the phaser’s beams, but yet not harness that same amount of power, struck Riker as worrying to say the least. 

“Commander, I believe it may be something other than a device that he’s using,” Troi said. She was struggling to look for words to explain what happened, in all her years of experience she had never encountered something quite so strangely powerful, so haunting that it evaded both her grasp of reality and sense of safety. “It may be something supernatural, or an alien ability.” 

“Noted,” Riker said into his hand, his clenched fist pressed against his lip in thought. This plan Vader was doing made no strategic sense, unless they had something other than the deflectors. The attacking ship was doing strafing runs on the ship, but it was more like watching fireworks than an assault, the blast didn’t do enough damage to even make a blip on the shields. It must’ve been a distraction, something to hold them busy while they either prepared a weapon they thought could trump them, or found a way to escape with one of the boarding team members.

“When the ship gets in front of us again, fire at will with the phasers. It’s time to end this,” Riker said.

“Sir,” Troi said, “are you sure? I can’t explain it, but I feel that that’s what the man in the ship wants you to do.”

“What he wants us to do, and what will be his downfall. A ship that small can’t deflect a direct and sustained blast at point blank. They’ll be vaporized as they try and deflect it,” Riker said.

Before Troi could make a counterpoint, it was as if Vader wanted to try the experiment for himself, and flew his ship directly in front of the Enterprise and waited, it’s rear pointed to its enemy.

Riker smelled a bait, something was wrong. “Reduce phasers to 1% power, fire the blast!” 

The phaser headed straight for Vader’s ship, and Vader’s ship shot off at maximum speed. The phaser followed behind it, but somehow it was moving slower. Vader’s ship moved down, and the phaser followed, it banked left, and the phaser followed. Everyone on the Enterprise’s command bridge watched on in disbelief as Vader seemed to be leading the phaser blast like a dog on a leash.

“Turn the blast off, stop the stream!” Riker shouted. The phaser blast cut off, but the remainder of the stream still followed behind Vader, carving a crimson colored path through space.

“It seems you’ve made your last mistake,” Vader said, the sound of his mechinated breathing nearly twice as loud as it was before.

Vader’s ship turned further down, until it was directly underneath the Enterprise, and shot upwards. The phaser blast followed behind Vader until he broke off, slinging the Enterprise’s own blast into its engines. The Enterprise was rocked by the thunderous blow, and as it shifted its direction from the blow, the shields of the ship flickered.

* * *

After an eternity of two minutes of climbing through the mud filled and arm-sized bug infested emergency tunnels of Maz Kanata’s castle, Han, Chewie, and the remaining members of the boarding team had finally found themselves back above ground. The sky was glowing a strange brightly red hue, and it felt a little bit hotter than it had before.

The entrance of the tunnel was through a hole in the ground covered with a stone so heavy that Chewie had to move it, and was so narrow that Data had to help to pull everyone out, but they had made it. The only one without any trouble fitting through was Wesley, Han pushed his unconscious body through one end while Han helped make sure he came out alright on the other.

Worf had thankfully come to, to some effect, at least, during their way through the cave of Maz Kanta’s Castle. His mouth still felt numb from the blast, and he found it hard to walk, but as a Klingon, he refused to let himself be held back by such things. 

Han took a moment to observe his surroundings and saw they were dense in foliage, thankfully they were pretty difficult to see, minus the colorful clothes of his new associates. The stormtroopers were still raiding the bar, rounding up patrons in handcuffs at gunpoint, the bodies of the people who had tried to fightback were evidence enough for everyone else to comply. It seemed like almost everyone who tried to leave earlier had run into one of the Empire’s squadrons.

There was no sight of PIcard either, only groups of transport ships flying off into the atmosphere. Whatever had happened to Picard, he was either long gone or long dead by now.

The ships at the landing site, and more importantly, the Millenium Falcon, were nearby. A quick sprint could get them to their ship in a minute, but that wasn’t the issue, the stormtroopers were.  
Groups of stormtroopers were going around all of the ships, breaking into them with astromech droids with hacking tools.

There was a group of about a dozen stormtroopers leaving the Millenium Falcon, running in a single file as they left the ship empty handed. A smirk crawled over Han’s face, they couldn’t find anything they wanted on the ship and had left it alone, this was going to be easier than he expected.

“Ok,” Han said as he turned his attention back to his group, “Here’s how we’re going to get out of this one in one piece.”

“I am already ahead of you,” Data said as he tapped his communicator, “Enterprise, this is Lieutenant Data, can you hear me?” 

Han’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he looked at Data. “I already told you!” he said in a hushed shout, “I’m not going on any damn teleporter, my ship is right there! We just sneak past these guys and we’re good to go!”

“Enterprise here!” Riker said, “It’s time to leave, are you ready to be transported?”

“Sneak in?” Worf said as he staggered towards Han, jabbing a finger into the smugglers chest. “This place is filled with soldiers, the chances of all of us getting by undetected is next to none, and Wesley already needs to see medical services immediately!”

Han noted that the big guy may have had a point. On the other hand, Worf was probably overestimating the danger of the situation. There were maybe thirty of them in total going through the ships and they had already passed his. Han and Chewie could easily slip by the guards, after all, they were the only ones who would be using the ship anyways.

“Well listen, no need for us to keep this meeting going any longer than it needs to. I’ll get in my ship and you guys can get in yours, I’ll send you the ship ID before I hit hyperspace and we’ll meetup at the next place I jump to in about three days. Sound like a deal? Great,” Han and Chewie began to sneak to the ship, almost stepping out of their cover, when they saw red smoke coming from outside of the top of the Millenium Falcon.

“Flares?!” Han said as he tried to leap out of his cover and make a run to the ship, but Chewie caught him in mid air, wrapping his arms around Han’s waist as he pulled him back, making sure to not lose hold of Wesley as he did so. 

A TIE Bomber came soaring down from the upper atmosphere of the planet. Within one moment, one bombing run that began as soon as it ended, the Millenium Falcon had exploded into a ball of flaming wreckage. 

“My Ship!” Han shouted so loud that the stormtroopers’ attention was diverted away from the destroyed ship, and turned to the frenzied face of Han.

“Bring us all aboard,” Data said.

Chewie dropped Han down. Before Han had even hit the ground, his hand was on his blaster. He aimed a blast square between a stormtrooper’s eyes and fired.

They were aboard the USS Enterprise before Han could even see the shot find it’s target.

* * *

“Shields are holding at 3%. Commander, we need to find a way out of this fight or end it right now!” Geordie said from engineering, the panic rising in his voice. 

Riker could feel the heat rising in his face, he hated losing, but most of all he hated losing like this. To some unseen force that defied all laws of physics, leaving them hapless against an opponent they could easily beat. Not to mention all of the battle damage they had taken earlier, if they just had their full arsenal, they would be able to take them in an instant with a few phaser blasts and photon torpedos; it’d probably be more than this Vader character would be able to handle. But he’d never know now, as he gave his next command.

“Our crew is aboard, No need to keep this battle going longer. Prepare to disengage and jump to Warp 5.” Riker said solemnly. 

Riker watched as Vader’s ship passed by their view, going from under the ship where it had guided their own phaser into them, and was now heading back to the Annihilator. 

As the ship left, Troi was preparing to turn to Riker, trying to find something comforting to tell him, but the moment she turned around she was greeted to the dark armored figure again, who she could only guess was Lord Vader.

He looked different now, the lens in his helmet were cracked, and sparks sputtered out of the control panel in his chest. Something must have damaged him, but she couldn’t imagine what. Unless … however he was deflecting their phasers, it had to be tied into something he was doing physically, some form of exertion that caused the damage to his suit.

“That was merely a demonstration of the power of the dark side,” Vader said as he looked down on Troi. 

Troi looked him up and down again. Before she was terrified, but now? Now there was proof that he was a real person, and just like any real person, he could be stopped.

She steeled herself as she said, “One that I’m sure Starfleet will be ready to deal with in the future.”

Vader’s hand rose, he opened his fist, but for a moment, hesitated. He turned his open fist into a point towards Troi and said, “We will meet again. You may find yourself being useful in the future.”

Vader vanished from the ship, and Troi turned her attention to Riker.

“Our crew is safely aboard, that’s all that matters for right now,” Troi said, but something felt wrong, hollow somehow. She was always able to feel out someone’s emotions through her betazoid senses, but now she felt as if she could feel their presence, and something about the ship personnel was off.

Han, Chewie, and the remaining members of the boarding team stepped onto the command bridge. Data was leading their visitors through, while Worf immediately ran with Wesley to the medical bay. 

“Where’s Picard?” Riker asked, as he stared at the group. Each time he looked at Data his eyes flashed to Han and Chewie, as if wondering when Picard was going to walk out from behind the duo.

“Commander RIker, we have reason to believe that Captain Picard have been captured or executed. For the current moment, you are the Captain of the USS Enterprise,” Data said.

A final message came from the Annihilator as it closed its hangar bay doors, and its engines began to grow brighter than before, obviously preparing to jump to as quick a speed as it could get to.

“Riker, I do believe that this has been an invaluable learning experience for the both of us” General Tagge said, his smugness from before the battle had begun returning in full force. “You’ve learned to never interfere with matters of the Empire again, and I’ve learned that there are yet more amazing weapons for us to acquire.”

“Do you have him? Do you have Picard?” Riker asked. He thought he was doing a good job of keeping the panic out of his voice, and he was, instead there was only a rising anger that threatened to break into a shout at a moment.

“Redshirted? Bald? Bloodied? Carries a ridiculous pin on his shirt? Yes, I do believe we’ve captured such a man. If you want to see him alive again, remember to be on your best behavior.”

The Annihilator then disappeared from their view, as it entered hyperspace. The radar on the Enterprise could still keep track of them for a moment, but there was no point. On the day of their first contact, the Empire had beaten Starfleet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay everyone, but the last few weeks, to put it lightly, have been the absolute worst. Thankfully though I've had a pretty good rebound, and I was still able to type out bits and pieces of this chapter over that time. Not as quickly as I would've if ya know, I wasn't very busy being the saddest sack in the zip code, but progress nonetheless, so I guess I should be glad I'm not 3 weeks late.
> 
> This officially marks the end of the first arc for this story, which I guess would be the prologue (thanks anime pacing for making me think getting 16k words into something for the prologue is ok to do). I'm gonna be spending the rest of this week editing over some of the previous chapters because I know I got some ranks wrong and probably have at least a dozen grammatical errors which I may or may not see, and I'm also going to be doing some more storyboarding for the next few arcs in this story. Which is all to say, I may post a chapter next Wednesday (10/23/19) but uh, I would _not_ advise holding your breath on that.
> 
> See you later, space cowboys.  
-Faris Beshma
> 
> P.S. I'm making all of these chapter titles up off the top of my head, if any of you have any better ideas, please tell me, or we're going to reach peak absurdity of dumb jokes I make to myself before this fic is done.


	6. Prisoner of the Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"No man chooses evil, because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks.” - Mary Wollstonecraft_
> 
> After a tumultuous battle, Picard now begins his first day aboard the Annihilator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna leave this music for the opening crawl right[ here ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EjMNNpIksaI)

_A galaxy far far away has encountered new life. _

_From out of thin air, travellers have arrived, adventurers and explorers of the final frontier who call themselves, “Starfleet.” In their voyage to explore new worlds, seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before, they have now found themselves in the midst of a galactic civil war._

_After a chance meeting on the planet Takodana, Han Solo and Chewbacca have agreed to help the members of Starfleet, if they help him with a secret mission to help the Rebel Alliance. Before the details of the mission could get explained however, they were attacked by the Empire’s forces, who were only detected thanks to a mysterious power awakening in Deanna Troi. _

_Led by Supreme General Tagge, the Empire clashed with Starfleet and the smugglers in both space and in Maz Kanata’s Castle. Tagge and his navy were nearly destroyed by the superior arsenal of the USS Enterprise, but found themselves victorious thanks to the assistance of Lord Vader, who took the fight to a stalemate with the power of the Force. Their ground forces dealt one of the most crushing blows to Starfleet possible, as an unknown Death Trooper and her squad successfully captured Captain Jean Luc Picard._

_As Han Solo and Chewbacca try to explain their plan to Commander Riker and the rest of the USS Enterprise, Picard awakens aboard an Empire shuttle ship. _

Picard’s eyes opened to the life suckingly gray ceiling of the transport ship. He heard nothing but the silence of space travel, a steady hum that he had always found reassuring throughout his years of travel, but now it only filled him with worry. For the first time in many years, he was trapped on an alien ship, and didn’t even know if his fellow members of Starfleet were alive.

He tried to move his legs, but they only barely nudged as he felt a numbing sensation travelling through his body. He could still move, a bit, but his movements were so clumsy and heavy that standing up was far and away out of the question. Noticing that his hands were behind his back, he tried to move them, but found that they were shackled together.

“So, you’ve woken up,” a voice from the front of the ship said flatly. 

Picard heard a pair of metallic boots march towards him, and then stop. A shadow now cast over Picard, as he looked up to see the same Death Trooper from before. It was easy to tell they were the same, her armor was covered in strange warp marks from where Worf had hit her with his phaser around her chest and head, and scuffs of explosion and debris adorned her shins from the thermal detonator. He realized now that they were up close that she was a hulking figure of a woman, at around six feet tall and with the shoulders of a linebacker, he wouldn’t be surprised if she could go toe to toe with Worf in just pure strength alone.

She took her knuckle and tapped the warped parts of her chest armor as she said, “Well I’ll have to remember to thank Fossin in R&D for this. Blocked those jedi tools of yours like a charm.”

“J...edi?” Picard struggled to say, his mouth was so stunned it felt like he was trying to talk with a mouth full of cotton balls.

“‘’Jehhhdie?’’” She mocked, “Yes, Jedi. You seem to wear different clothes from the old days, but at least it’s nice to see that those old wizard tricks can still make Lord Vader useful every once in a while after his blunder at the Death Star.”

She squatted down to Picards level and grabbed his forehead with her thumb on one side of his head and her index on the other, as she slowly tilted it side to side.

“Funny,” She said as she watched Picard’s face, trying to see if he was terrified, but only saw a concentrated mix of frustration and confusion. “I always imagined you jedi type would toss the grenade away in mid air, or even detonate it in my hand,” she lazily tossed him in her grasp, his head bouncing off of the slab as she said, “but I guess you always imagine things from your childhood as being more impressive.” 

She once again grabbed Picard by the head, but applied a grip as strong as an iron vice as she stood up, bringing both of them to their feet. 

Picard’s eyes widened in shock as he saw death trooper tap her fingers to her palm, and a dagger as deep a dark as her armor emerged from a slot near her wrist. The trooper spun Picard so that his back was turned from her, and he took the brief moment to try and get as much a grasp on the situation as he could.

Five seater space shuttle, only one person, her crew was either deceased or incapacitated. She had the time to attack him, so they were on auto pilot, en route to the capital ship most likely.

If the seats were all empty, that also meant there was a slim chance that the rest of the Away Team had escaped. Although it may have been helpful to have assistance in escaping this situation, Picard was glad no one in his crew wouldn’t have to suffer any brutalities at the hands of the Empire.

Picard was slammed until the wall so hard that he was seeing double. He grunted in agony as she put her forearm on his upper back to hold him in place, and said more as a threat than a question, “The projectile jedi weapon. Why is there writing on it in an unknown language? Some sort of jedi code?”

Picard was starting to feel some sense of control coming back to his body. He couldn’t stand up on his own yet, but he could at least talk some what clearly, if with a small slur, “Jedi wheapon? Shoh it to me.”

The death trooper said nothing as she dragged Picard over to the co-pilot chair, and sat him down. She reached underneath the chair and as she pressed into its bottom, a small “click” noise came from the chair, as a metal band went over Picard lap and held him tightly.

Even without much feeling in his body, it was easily one of the most uncomfortable chairs he had ever sat in. It was chill to the touch, and was one singular piece of metal with only a backrest. As Picard looked down, he could tell that it was welded to the ships floor, and as he tried to move his tied together wrists from behind the chair, he realized that the click from before didn’t only make the metal band on his lap , but also one behind the chair that left his arms with only an inche of movement.

“I’m not going to waste my time interrogating you against a wall,” the death trooper said as she went to the end of the room and opened a metal canister. When she walked back over to Picard, she was holding his phaser in her hand.

“Pro-ject-ile. Jed-i. Weap-on,” She said as she held it to Picard’s face, tapping the bridge of his nose with the tip of the phaser as she pronounced each word. 

“It’s no Jedi weapon. Where I’m from, it is called a phaser,” Picard said as he carefully watched the most dangerous weapon he had had on his person be tapped against him as if it were a plaything.

“Yet…” She paused, taking a moment as she held the phaser to Picard’s nose to press the buttons on the phaser, shifting it between the “Stun” and “Kill” settings. “It shoots a concentrated beam of light energy, just like how a lightsaber works. A little bit of detective work tells me these two might be related. Now, are they related?”

A low tone beep went off through the ship’s speakers, and then a calm and automated male voice with a gentle English sounding accent said, “You are now entering the hangar of the Annihilator. Landing gear is currently engaging.”

The death trooper let out an aggrieved sigh as she took the phaser from Picard’s face, set it back to its original settings, and placed it back in the storage container.

“Well,” the death trooper said as she sat back in her chair, “It seems we’ll have to continue this talk a little bit later, jedi.” 

“I am telling you, I am no jedi,” Picard insisted, tugging at his restraints as he spoke. 

“Sure, and I’m not Major Phasma,” she said blandly.

“And I’m Captain Jean Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise,” he shot back sourly, as he watched Phasma only stare straight ahead.

The ship crossed through glowing blue barrier of light separating the hanger from outer space, and landed at the far end of the area. The sleek black and grey metals of the hangar were spotless, showing the reflections of the troopers, pilots, engineers, and other members of personnel as they orderly dashed as quickly they could from one area to the next. The only unarmored personnel that Picard could see were the officers and the engineers, he could barely make out their faces from the distance, but judging by how many long sighs and head scratching, it seemed a rather odd event had taken place.

Picard looked at the hundreds of bombers and fighter ships, and the nearly two dozen ships that were identical to the ones he and Phasma were on and currently landing in between.  
“It seems you haven’t lost that many ships,” Picard said, observing as there were only maybe half a dozen gaps in total between where ships were parked, “Exactly what type of battle happened out here? Where is the ship you fought, the USS Enterprise?”

“General Tagge will be waiting,” Phasma said as she got behind Picard, undid his chair locks, and jerked him to his feet. “You can ask him during your very productive chat.” 

Phasma opened one of the pouches on the waist of her armor and pulled out a black cable of rope with a small silver head on the end. She clenched Picard’s forearm with such strength that the starfleet captain’s face winced in pain as she slid the rope through the chain between his shackles and pressed the silver piece. The tip made a quiet clinking noise as it became a horizontal bar, locking itself in place. When Phasma closed the pouch, the tension of the rope tightened, and Phasma gave Picard a small nudge with her hand.

“Well carry on then prisoner, just act like I’m not even here,” Phasma said as the landing ramp opened.

Picard heard Phasma open another pouch, and then felt the cold steel of the barrel of a blaster on the back of his head. “Just a handgun, don’t let it scare you too much. Now no need to keep the general waiting.”

As Picard was marched to General Tagge’s office, he watched everything going on around him. A few of the soldiers cheered at the display being made in front of them, but most kept to their business, probably not wanting to risk looking like they were falling out of line. There were mouse like robots scurrying about the ship, little boxes with wheels, perhaps information transfer or minor maintenance attendees. They even had some larger humanoid robots who were speaking the common language, but yet Data seemed odd to them. Was there some sort of taboo against creating androids in particular?

Picard was having trouble keeping up with Phasma, the numbing in his body had only mostly finished subsiding, and judging by the snickering of a few soldiers, she was enjoying making a show out of it. 

As Picard stumbled over his feet, he noticed a room with a large steel capsule like machine inside of it that was almost fully closed. Inside of it the capsule he could see a man in full black armor wearing a cape, and for some reason, meditating. He only saw him for half a second before he was jerked away, but Picard saw a small sputter of electricity come out of some electrical component on his chest. Strange, Picard didn’t remember seeing anyone like him during the ground battle.

Although it would’ve been nice to get some information or context during their walk, Picard knew better than to continue asking Phasma. He had known plenty of people like this through his travels and even a few through Starfleet Academy, the prideful who saw their relation to be only one of the Master and Servant. He may be able to get information out of her, but it would only be through her accidentally letting it slip through.

As they entered into an elevator to the top floor of the ship, Picard turned his head to the side as he spoke to Phasma, “This is quite the impressive ship, I don’t think Starfleet could ever be capable of something like this.” He was only half lying, he couldn’t judge what technological level they were at just by looking at their devices from afar, but this was far larger than any Starfleet ship he had ever been on.

“Shocking,” Phasma said monotonously, “You jedi have created your own secret sect, this Starfleet, and yet you’ve never even been on something as large as a Super Destroyer type ship? Seems we may not have as much a reason to be worried as Lord Vader thought.”

The door of the elevator slid open and the two of them stood in a hallway that led straight to Tagge’s office, evident by the text “The Supreme General’s Office” that was written in a silver metal and had a dimly glowing row of red lights over top of it. 

Phasma led Picard to the office and the doors slid open, revealing Tagge, leaned back in his chair with his hands comfortably placed behind his head. 

Tagge was an obviously proud man, the ruby red array of service ribbons on his freshly ironed green uniform were perfectly polished, and the wide smirk on his face nearly managed to take away all of the attention from the thinning brown hair on his head.

His immaculate obsidian desk was lined with miniature bronze statues of stormtroopers and pilots, all carefully arranged, as if he was playing some sort of game before the two had entered. 

Phasma undid the hook in Picard’s shackles, stood at attention, nodded at Tagge, then turned on her heels and left the room just as quickly as she had entered.

“So, Captain Picard was it?” Tagge said as he sat up in his chair. “Please grab a seat, I’ll believe you’ll want it for the news I’m about to give you.” 

The smug look on Tagge’s face began dissolving as he cleared his throat and tapped his finger on the desk for a moment and then stopped. The general looked as if he was struggling to find the words to say, so Picard took the moment to speak first.

“A meeting face to face with the Supreme General? I must say, this is quite more accommodating than I was expecting, given the current circumstances.”

“Circumstances?” Tagge said with his eyebrows raised, an obviously mock surprised tone in his voice.

“The guns blazing attack, the dead civilians, I half expected to be thrown in a torture chamber before being forced to admit to being whatever a ‘Jedi’ is,” Picard said as a stern look grew over his face.

Tagge stiffly held up his hands in protests, “Some intel that seemed to have been rotten. I can tell a jedi from a mile away, you and the people on your ship definitely aren’t ones.” Tagge paused as he folded his arms across his chest. “Weren’t ones.”

Picard’s eyes widened, was this man trying to tell him that the entire rest of the Enterprise team had perished in the battle? 

“I’m sorry, we were beginning to disengage, try and find a way to descelate after we realized who you were, but…” Tagge let out a heavy sigh before continuing, “Lord Vader just needed to try and redeem himself after the failure on the Death Star, he’s been a rabid dog since then.”

Picard couldn’t believe what he was hearing, all of this was impossible. There was simply no way that the entire crew of the Enterprise could be killed by one man, one human being who was aboard this ship. He knew this man was lying, he had to be, but he just didn’t know to what extent, or how he would even go about figuring it out.

“I believe that the Empire has stood on the sidelines for too long, letting wizards of “the Force” run about and decide the life and death of millions, but you,” Tagge said as he pointed at Picard, “Your people have tools that could make the Force look like the joke that it is, that could help free the Empire from the tyranny of …” A look of fear crossed Tagge’s face, something so haunting that he couldn’t continue speaking as he lightly put his fingers to his throat. 

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Picard seethingly asked.

“I’m asking you,” Tagge said as he took one of the miniature statues on his desk, an officer, and passed it to Picard, “to help free our people. I’m asking you to help us kill Lord Vader.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, I actually got a chapter out today! I've edited chapters 1-3 of the story so far, but I was having too much fun writing this chapter and decided to go ahead and finish/publish it, perhaps I'll get to the glory days of being a chapter ahead sometime in the future. 
> 
> Fun Fact: [here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpDvtIt6Lsc) one of my favorite songs to play while writing


	7. A Reluctant Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Everything is worth what its purchaser will pay for it" - Publius Syrius_
> 
> With no ship, Han and Chewie finds themselves adjusting to life on the USS Enterprise, while Riker adjusts to running the ship in Picard's absence.

Riker stood with his fist clenched as the reality of the situation started revealing itself to him. They were in a completely foreign galaxy, they didn’t have anyway to track the ship that had just escaped them, and the only people who may have any idea of how to get their captain back were this pair of random smugglers. How could he let this happen? He should’ve insisted for the Away Team to come up the second the Empire arrived, or at least destroyed the Annihilator before the situation got too dire. Now Picard was gone, and it was all his responsibility.

There was one question nagging at the back of his mind though, why did the Empire ambush them. The only options were that they were trying to get something from someone on the planet, or try and get something from Starfleet. It seemed ludicrous, but with their captain kidnapped, he was beginning to suspect that the Empire did want something from them after all.

The only person they had talked to however, the only people who could’ve conveyed any information for them to be abducted for, were Han, Chewie, and Maz Kanata.

“So,” Han said as he took a moment to put his hands on his hips and glance around at the already heavily damaged interior of the USS Enterprise, “I know a place that can fix this, may want to head out that way before we get too involved in anything.” 

Riker took a long look at Han. “Do you have any way of tracking down the Annihilator, the ship that just took our Captain?” 

Han leaned forward and placed a hand on Riker’s shoulder, tilted his head as if trying to see that Riker was alright, and said, “Well, unless you’re interested in a suicide mission, I don’t think that really matters too much right now.”

Han patted Riker’s shoulder, and Riker took a firm grasp of Han’s hand as he tossed it off of himself. “Our captain can very well be being tortured right now, and you want us to!....” Riker became silent as he looked around at the damage on the ship, in his rage he had nearly forgotten about the dire straits they were in. Even if they could find Picard, they didn’t have the ability to reach warp speeds at the moment. The second they were able to beam Picard aboard if they could beam Picard aboard, they would still be stuck facing that lone fighter ship from before.

Troi stood up from her chair as she saw Han’s face immediately turn into a cocky smirk, she had only met this man for two minutes and could already hear the ‘I told you so’ coming out of his mouth. Next she would be stuck either hearing Riker tackle him to the floor or feeling his deep intention to do so knocking around in her head.

“Mr. Solo, I am Counselor Troi and this is our Standing Captain, Captain Riker Williams,” she said as she held out her hand for a shake, trying to defuse the situation.

Han slapped his had together with Troi’s and gave a quick firm shake. “Great to meet ya, and Han is fine,” he spoke with a toothy smirk, one that Riker immediately noticed with a mildly disgusted face, and Troi reacted to by shaking his hand and a smile. 

“Now I never saw time for our old friend Picard to relay the message to you, so here’s the rundown. You guys help me spread the Coruscant Archives, help me with the research a little bit, and we can see what I can do for you.” Han was only embellishing a little bit he figured. After all, now that Picard was in trouble, it was even more important that they help him with the archives.

“Oh don’t worry,” Riker said as he stepped towards Han, lightly pushing Troi out of the way as he came nearly chest to chest with the smuggler. “We heard plenty of the conversation through our systems, and not once was helping you with research mentioned. You only asked for access to our replicator.”

Han took a quick moment to size up Riker, he looked a lot angrier than he expected him to be. The scary part was that he was the quiet sort of angry, if he did break and do anything, he seemed like the type that would try and justify it through protocol, even if he had to reinterpret protocol to do so. It felt like being in the Imperial Academy all over again.

Riker was only a few inches taller than Han, and Troi seemed like the type that would hold him back, he could probably get in a quick hook to the chin before things got too hairy. That being said, he and Chewie were completely surrounded, so he decided to play it cool, taking one step backwards to make some space between the two of them.

“Of course,” Han said as he put his palms to his chest, trying his best to show earnest surprise, “I must’ve gotten confused during all the adrenaline. But if somebody were to help me with finding out what the Rebel Alliance is looking for on these things, well, I bet getting Picard back sure would be easier. Plus, I have no ship now, what am I supposed to do with a bunch of copies and no way to pass ‘em around?”

Riker’s finger was ready to jab into Han’s chest, but Troi cleared her throat, and he restrained himself. He was getting distracted, letting his anger cloud his judgement. This smuggler was, unfortunately, their only hope. Even if he was suspicious of Han, he had to at least hear him out.

“This is all …. A lot of information to process at the current moment,” Riker spoke with a firm tone, then took a breath before continuing. “I’m going to go check on Officer Worf in sickbay and Officer Data in engineering. After that I believe it would be best to convene in the meeting room, where my crew and I can discuss your plans further. Until then Officer Troi and some accompanying security personnel will give you and your friend a tour of the ship. We’ll meetup in 0100 hours, understood?”

“Understood completely,” Han said as he and Riker tried to read each other’s faces. Strange, Han thought, that two captains of the same ship could come off so differently.

* * *

Troi’s tour consisted of mostly the crew support sections. Since Han and Chewie were technically civilians, she wanted to save any of the actual combative or technologically extreme technical capabilities of the ship underwraps until the smugglers had proven themselves trustworthy.

The pair seemed confused at the amphitheatre, poked around the plants in the arboretum, and both of them seemed to have some sort of shared horrific flashback in the gymnasium. There was only one place left to see on the ship, since they had decided to skip the bar, Ten Forward. For once, they had had quite enough bars for a day.

As they walked down the hallways of the USS Enterprise, Troi led Han and Chewie, with two silent security crewman behind them. They made for quite the sight, a civilian in strange clothing, and to what on most of the ship seemed to be the most bizarre alien they had witnessed yet. Shockingly though, they didn’t really move out of the way in fear, or try and ogle at the pair, most of the crew of the Enterprise gave a polite wave and hello, and Han even noticed a few winks come his way, although Chewie would be the first to object to their existence.

“So, this is Starfleet, huh? I gotta say, it doesn’t look like it could move quite as fast as the Millenium Falcon, but,” Han tapped his knuckles on the hallway, “It’s a pretty nice setup, how many people do you have on here, five, eight hundred?” 

The smuggler noticed the rather nice living standards in comparison to any ship he’d ever seen. Rugs? Carpets? People walking around smelling like anything other than sweat and the cheapest soap they could find? This must’ve been some sort of luxury flagship, but leave it to a different galaxy to have different military priorities. 

“Actually, it holds about six thousand, although there’s only about 1,000 members of the crew and civilians onboard right now,” Troi said. 

The counselor noticed the gobsmacked face of Han, and decided to follow up, “The Millenium Falcon, it sounds like a ship you’re familiar with. How fast does it go? It’s important for us to know the relative abilities of what we’re going up against in this galaxy.”

Han had to pick his jaw up off the floor. Six thousand was a number that only the Super Star Destroyers of the Empire came close to. Hell, with those numbers they could easily fit a hefty chunk of the members of the minor factions in the Rebel Alliance inside of here.

“Oh, it’s my ship, least it used to be. It got blown up in the attack,” Han said bitterly. It was his very first ship that was all his own, had been for over a decade, he’d make sure to make the Empire pay for it. “How fast was it though? Fast enough to put tears in your eyes, finished the Kessel Run in 12 parsecs,” Han said.

“I’m sorry, but aren’t parsecs a measure of distance, not time?” Troi asked.

“Oh,” Han hadn’t been called out on that one in awhile. “That must be a mistranslation with your communicator. It goes .5 the speed of light.”

“Oh, I guess they are still adjusting to the galactic basic,” Troi said. “How fast is .5 the speed of light exactly? Half the speed of light or …?”

“Half the speed of light? It could reach from one end of the galaxy to another in the afternoon,” Han said.

Han saw that Troi had raised her eyebrows, but it was the look in her eyes that mattered, one that he had gotten very familiar with over his years. Complete and utter disbelief, not from shock, but from a lack of trust. Interesting that she had picked it up that quick.

“Well I stand open to being proven wrong, but unless this is a very small galaxy, that seems very unlikely,” Troi said. 

“I’ll get a map to you soon enough, see how big this galaxy really is,” Han said as he did a small sweeping motion with his hand, as if he could physically brush Troi’s comment away. “This ship read datastick? Chewie always keeps a spare in his satchel just for emergencies like this.”

Chewie made a small grunt, and pulled out a datastick from one of his satchels and held it out to Troi. She took the datastick and gave Chewie a warm smile.

“Thank you, I’m sure Officer La Forge can figure out some way to work this out.” Troi had seen similar devices to the datastick before, but not an exact copy. She had, however, seen Geordie’s intellect before, and had no reason to doubt him.

Troi guided the group to a turbo lift, and as she stepped inside she pressed the buttons for their next floor and let the moment sit in silence. She wanted to see how Han would react, since he hadn’t given her many moments of silence sense their tour began. All of his questions were some sort of a boast or confusion, so using her betazoid senses seemed somewhat redundant at this point. She did, however, feel something deeper inside of him. Something she couldn’t describe and that she didn’t really have much of a reason to believe, but underneath all of his braggadocio and ignorance, there was a sort of troubled guilt underneath it all.

Did the smuggler feel guilty because he had left Picard behind? He had barely known him, and his profession wasn’t exactly known for making sentimental people. She knew the odds were against him trying to avenge Picard or anything of the like, but when she looked at him, when she got a good hard look at Han’s eyes, it was like she could feel a certain light humming inside of there, a want to be a better person than he let himself come off as.

This, she realized, was something unusual for even her betazoid senses. Maybe she needed to make a check in with Dr. Crusher. Once the meeting was over today, she would make sure to stop by the doctor and see if everything was alright.

Han leaned back on the railing of the turbolift as he noticed Troi’s attention to him, his arms slowly spreading out amongst the railing.

Troi saw the change in Han’s posture, and slowly blinked at him. “Next up, I’ll be showing you the holodecks.” Her attention changed to Chewie, but Han’s position stayed the same.

Han opened his mouth to talk, but Troi had already decided to quash whatever Han was going to say before she had to hear about it from gossip amongst the crew in the ship’s bar.

“So, Chewie, is this always how your first contact meetings tend to go?” she asked.

Chewie looked at Han’s spread out pose for a brief moment, then looked to Troi and made a disgruntled growl.

“This is why you can’t take me anywhere?!” Han said with his hand pointed to Chewie in mock offense. “I’m the main pilot for our ship, I’m taking us to at least half of our places!” 

The security personnel tried to hold in their laughs, not wanting to look unprofessional, butTroi was the only one succeeding. As the security team snickered, Troi only cracked a small smile.

When the turbolift’s doors opened, Troi guided the group to the holodeck. It was only yet another set of sliding steel doors, the only thing that made it stand out was the sign above the door that said “Holodeck.” 

Han’s opinion of the area quickly changed when they inside of the room, as he was taken aback by the stark black and yellow gridlike pattern of the room.

“This is the holodeck, here you can make nearly anything you’ve ever imagined into a near perfect holographic reality, or as it’s more often known, virtual reality. If there’s ever a time you think you’ll want to use it, you’re more than welcome to. Just inform one of the officers and we’ll be happy to have someone help you set it up or set it up ourselves,” Troi said.

Han and Chewie took a long stare around the room. Chewie’s mouth curved into a frown as he thought of the wars of the past, the friends he’d lost along the years, the homeworld he may never see again, and made a dismissive grunt, not really saying a thing. 

Han shrugged and peaked his head over his shoulder towards the exit.

“You’re right,” Han said to Chewie as he stood on his tiptoes to reach an arm around his shoulder, “There’s too many interesting things happening out here in the real world, no need to spend time playing pretend in a box.”

* * *

The electrical hum of the sickbay was but ambient noise behind the rushing feet and correspondence between the personnel. Minor cuts, major cuts, sprained wrists, broken limbs, and everything beyond and in between was being treated. The first fight with the rogue ship that sent them to this galaxy had done plenty of damage to the crew, but the fight with the Empire was just icing on the cake.

Being hit with their own phaser blast had given the ship quite the rocking, causing more minor damage to already endangered crew members. As Captain Riker walked past the patients to get to Worf and Wesley, he once again felt the consequences of his inaction.

There were however a few silver linings. Data was already back to perfect health and only needed a few minor repairs and the members of the away team who were in the most danger, Worf and Wesley, were bouncing back to health.

“But I thought you said they were stunned, in some sort of unconscious state?” Riker asked Dr. Crusher.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you Riker,” Beverly said as she observed the readings on the computer over Wesley’s bed, his eyes shut as she rested her hand on her son’s knee. “They are unconscious, they were hit by some sort of stunning weapon, but their heart rate should be lower. I cross checked the data of incidents similar to these, and not once have patients responded this quickly.”

“Yeah mom, so you don’t need to keep worrying about me,” Wesley whined as he rubbed the bandages on his forehead.

“You've suffered multiple concussion and stun blasts. The fact that you’re even awake at all right now is a miracle in and of itself,” Dr. Crusher said as she patted her son’s knee.

Worf sat up in his bed and looked at the electrodes attached to his torso that were getting his readings. “Dr. Crusher, is it alright if I take these off? I believe it would be important to brief some of the security personnel on what type of equipment our enemies may be using and time is of the essence. We need to be ready for any attacks they launch to try and finish us off.”

The doctor gave him a nod of approval. “Sure thing, we’ve already collected all the data and you have a clean bill of health, although you may feel a bit stiff walking around at first. Do you want me to get you a cane? It would make getting around a lot easier.”

Worf's snarling face as he unplugged the electrodes from underneath his shirt was enough of an answer.

Riker looked to Worf with a small smile, that was always his favorite quality of their Klingon officer. No matter how much punishment he was dealt, or how dire the odds seemed against them, Worf was always ready to go on the offensive.

“Something tells me that it may be a moment before we see the Empire again, They’ve taken Picard hostage,” Riker said. “But it is better to be safe than sorry though. Speaking of which, I have some questions about our new passengers, Han Solo and Chewbacca, the two you met in Maz Kanata’s Castle.”

Worf’s snarl faded at the news of his captain’s abduction. He stood up from his bed and stabilized himself by firmly grasping onto his bed’s frame “Any questions that you need answered I’m willing to help with, Captain Riker.”

“The smugglers … are they trustworthy?” Riker asked.

“Trustworthy?!” Wesley interrupted, “They helped saved my life! They may seem a little rough around the edges, but they’re great!”

Wesley immediately tightened his grip on his head as he finished speaking. His vision blurred for a moment, as his mom and Captain Riker became red and blue blobs. He may’ve been recovering, but he was starting to feel exactly how much he had to recover from. He rested his head down on his pillow and shut his eyes to relax, but kept his ears open to the conversation.

“And they could’ve led to that attack in the first place,” Riker countered, speaking softly as he saw the pain Wesley was going through. “Data gave me a debriefing of the encounter. Why would they have been there to begin with? What leads would they have had? And why did they capture Picard instead of just firing to kill? It seems like the Empire was searching for something, and it’s not like they would’ve had anyway of knowing who we were before we entered the building, unless they had some inside help.”

Wesley stayed quiet as he slowly opened his eyes, staring at his sheets for a moment. It was obvious to tell that he had something else to say.

“Anything else before I begin my opinion, Wesley?” Worf asked.

“It’s … It’s my fault that Picard got captured. I was fading in and out, but I knew he was trying to protect me, and that’s why he got captured.” The boy’s voice cracked as he firmly gripped his sheet, and Riker put his hand on his shoulder.

Seeing Wesley taking so much responsibility for something completely out of his control made Riker feel like he was nearly looking into a mirror. “Wesley, what happened today wasn’t your fault. All of us on Starfleet were caught off guard, but that’s just a part of life. What matters is picking ourselves up afterwards.”

Wesley rubbed his sleeve across his face, wiping tears from his eyes, and nodded his head.

“Well,” Worf said, “I believe they’re on our side. They fought valiantly alongside of us, and we wouldn’t have even escaped to begin with if it wasn’t for them. They may not have an honorable profession, but they are honorable fighters.”

Riker put his fist to his mouth in thought and let out a quick low hum.Everyone in the Away Team that made it back said the same thing, they didn’t see any reason to believe Han and Chewie played a part in them getting ambush. As much as it pained Riker, it seemed he’d be stuck with the pair for awhile then.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get to the bottom of why they were ambushed sooner rather than later.

The next words out of Riker’s mouth sounded as if they almost brought him physical pain, “Alright, that just about settles it then I suppose. Get ready, the meeting with them will be soon.”

* * *

As soon as everyone entered into the meeting room, Han was the first one to talk, “Alright everyone, here’s part one of our great cultural exchange, a map of our galaxy, which I would hand to …”

Everyone wasn’t even seated yet, they were just watching Han as they got into their designated seats. 

Han looked to Troi to help bail him out of the situation, and she decidedly offered none as she held her hands together and sat them on the table.

“Perhaps you would like to take a seat and introduce yourself first?” She said.

Han watched as Riker put his leg over his seat at the head of the table to sit into it. He wasn’t sure if it was some sort of custom he was supposed to respect, but knew he wasn’t that flexible, and decided to just sit in the first available seat he saw; at the opposite end of table, overlooking everyone else.

Chewie looked at the seats, made a growl about how they weren’t quite his size, and that he preferred to stand anyways.

“Right, sorry about that,” Han said as he got situated, flapping out his vest as he made sure he was comfortable in the chair. “I’m Han Solo, former captain and main pilot of the Millenium Falcon,” he pointed his finger at Troi, “The fastest ship in the galaxy.” His finger jabbed to Chewie, “And this is Chewbacca, call him Chewie, he’s nice sometimes.”

Geordie tilted his head at the comment as he leaned forward in his chair. “How fast did it go?” He asked.

“Do I look like an engineer? We seem to have some conversion issues going around, but I can tell you that that ship was never once outrun as long as I was in the cockpit,” Han said.

“Interesting. I’m Geordie La Forge, Chief Engineer of the USS Enterprise,” Geordie said as he held out his hand.

Han shook it and looked to Doctor Crusher, the only other officer he hadn’t yet met. 

“Doctor Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer, pleased to meet you,” she said.

They shook hands as well, and Han’s attention turned to Riker, who was patiently waiting for all of the pleasantries to wrap up.

“Thank you for your map of the galaxy. Geordie, do you think you can handle it?” Riker asked.

Han passed the datastick to Geordie. The Chief Engineer observed it for a moment and said, “Well it looks like one of those ancient USB sticks, I’m sure we could figure it out eventually, but having something that could display it immediately would help. If we had that, maybe I can find some way to integrate it with the ship to make this whole process quicker in the future too.”

“Noted, next on the agenda,” Riker said as he crossed his arms and stared directly into Han’s eyes, “What exactly is this plan you want us to help you with.”

“Coruscant Archives,” Han said as he pulled a datapad from one of the inner pockets of his vest. “This right here has the data of every jedi conflict in recorded history. First hand accounts of the Sith Civil Wars, the Rise and Fall of the Republic, the creation of the Jedi Order, and most importantly, everyone who was in it.”

“Jedi and Sith, what are those?” Riker asked.

“An ancient religion, warrior wizard monks who waged war against each other throughout the galaxy for generations. The Sith got wiped out by the Jedi first, then the Jedi were wiped out by the Republic, part of Order 66... “ Han took a dramatic pause to watch the faces change of everyone in the room. Everyone seemed a little bit curious, but Data was staring at him with seemingly rapt attention. “Or at least, that’s the official story,” Han said.

“So what are you trying to suggest? That we help uncover some secret government conspiracy with you?” Riker asked.

“No, that’s all in the past, Order 66 was a pretty key point in the Rebel’s history. What I’m asking is that you help me parse through these files and find some connections. There’s a certain guy we’re trying to get rid of before we get to The Emperor, name is Lord Vader. Theory is that he was a former Jedi that's gone Sith. If we can find out who he was, we may have some luck and find a way to destroy him.”

“Darth Vader … That’s the tall man armored in all of that dark metal isn’t it? The Cyborg?” Troi asked. “He’s the one who showed himself to me on the ship!”

She knew it was true before she said it, some gut instinct of hers was making it as if all of the puzzle pieces had finally come into place at once.

Han finally looked at Troi as if she was a creature from a completely different galaxy. “Yeah, that’s the one,” he said.

“And what’s in this for us? This sounds like it could be an extremely dangerous mission to put my crews life at stake for. Most powerful people have powerful ways of keeping their secrets held,” Riker said.

Han wasn’t quite sure. There weren’t many things he could truly promise to them, but there were a few things he could try to make true. “Your ship fixed, Picard brought back alive, and your way back home secured.”

The tension in the air was palpable as the words hung in the air. Was the USS Enterprise really about to trust the lives of their entire crew on a pair of smugglers?

Troi tried to use her betazoid senses to sense out Han for an answer, even though they had been on the fritz lately. He was definitely being honest, at least by his own standards, but that bragging glow, the same one she saw from before, was nearly radiating off of him now. It was strange, it didn’t feel the same as confidence, but something stronger than that, it felt like the will to make it come true.

“I don’t like it,” Riker said flatly. “We’ll be glad to take the map of the galaxy and directions to a mechanic or some parts, but consider it payment for saving your life.”

“Captain, I believe that the very information that Captain Solo carries with him may be imperative to our survival,” Data said. “The odds of our survival increase significantly if we know the history of the areas we are going across.”

“And he’s telling the truth, or at least some form of it,” Troi added.

Riker gave his two officers a mildly withering look as Han shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m just trying to point it out to you, you’d make powerful allies, and you’ve already made powerful enemies. What more have you got to lose?” Han said.

After a heavy sigh, Riker said, “All fair points. We’ll consider this a tentative alliance. But if you ever cause any harm to my crew, we’ll have you thrown off of the ship and left on the nearest planet quicker than you can try and talk your way out of it.”

“Completely understood, ” Han said with a grin. That was the first time anyone had offered to go out of their way to leave him on a planet instead of the vacuum of space.

“It’s getting late however, do you know of a way to help Geordie with his process?” Riker asked.

Chewie let out a growl as he put his arm down, motioning to something being about shin height to him.

“An astromech droid? Where can we get one of those?” Geordie asked.

“Pretty easy to find them on Takodana, easiest spot would be Maz’s castle. One problem though, the worst people always come after the battles,” Han said.

“Looters?” Troi asked.

Han sighed as he stood from the chair,“They’ll be there, along with my least favorite faction in the Rebel Alliance, the Force Faithful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry it's a day late, but sometimes every impediment just hits you at once like that. For two days in a row. And you lose literally all of your writing time and just get a wee bit tilted as your stuck trying to write at almost exclusively inconvenient times. 
> 
> Anywho, hope you enjoy the Starfleet side of this arc, as we get into the factionalism of the Rebel Alliance! Next chapter on their side will probably be very Troi-centric, as she is one of the character who's growth I'm interested in the most. I've been considering making these chapters Game of Thrones style where each one is entirely from a certain characters point of view, but that may be explored as the cast gets larger in the very near future. 
> 
> Also for people wondering about Han/Leia, oh don't worry, that'll be covered in the nearer future.
> 
> Thank you for reading and see you next time!
> 
> \- Faris Beshma
> 
> P.S. Instead of a song this time (just pop on any Gregory Porter album for that), here's the [intro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0A8hK-KBRjs) to my favorite anime this season. Yes, I know, the overlap between Star Trek/Wars fandom and historical anime is massive, no need to pat me on the back for these big brain plays


	8. A New Day, A New Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“But my later experience has taught me two lessons: first, that things are seen plainer after the events have occurred; second, that the most confident critics are generally those who know the least about the matter criticised.” - Ulysses S. Grant_
> 
> After studying the history of the Empire, Picard meets his new team and a new foe.

Picard laid on the bed of his new room as he read one of the few datapads they had left him with. It wasn’t that there were few datapads, there was an entire bookshelf that they had supplied him with, they all just covered the same subjects from the same point of view.

The rise of the Empire’s might against narrow odds, the ineffeciency of the flailing republic, and the coup a religious cult known as the Jedi tried to enact. The same narrative, same word choices, same agendas, it was the same across every book he could find, with the only differences being which military figures they deified. Even without a firsthand perspective for which events had happened, he knew all of the text he had been left with had one fatal flaw; History is as life is, an art to be interpreted, not a science to be broken down.

He had successfully learned nothing of the true events, only the Empire’s philosophy, and despairingly, the likely mindset he would soon be interacting with.

After the meeting with Tagge, Picard was told he was to work under Major Phasma and that it was a non-negotiable part of him continuing to breathe on his ship. The story would be that Picard was a high ranking scientist who had been working on a secret project for the Empire when he was captured by Jedi Remnants, thankfully they were able to save him during the raid and eliminate all of the jedi. In his generous debt to the Empire, Picard the Scientist of the Empire, would agree to stay aboard the Annihilator, and help them by staying in his room and developing new weapons for them.

When Picard asked for a clarification of what type of weapon, Tagge waved away the question as an exhausted look came over him, and said, “Super. They’re the only ones that people think matter nowadays anyways.”

Picard bored of reading and put his datapad back on its shelf. The room may not have belonged to a scientist, but at least the Empire made a clear attempt of mimicking it on such short notice.

Two datapad shelves filled to the brim with texts flanked a pristine desk with a singular datapad on it filled with theorems. There were two sterile black and white clocks hanging on the wall near his bed, one kept track of the time of the current area they were in, while the other tracked the circadian rhythmic cycles his body should be following. Above his desk there was a poster of the schematics of something called “The Death Star” hung above his desk, it was covered in signatures that he could only presume were of the architects of the battle station.. 

When Picard opened the desk’s drawers he saw they were all empty. The datapad’s theorems led to no conclusions, no basic direction, no purpose for their existence, they were just formulas for formulas sake. Just enough to say they were for a superweapon and that it was to be kept secret if anybody asked, but without any explanations they would be of any use for providing him with any actual context of what the Empire was capable of.

Out of curiosity, Picard went to his door to see if there was a way to get out. Walking straight up to it did nothing, but there was a hand reading security device on the wall next to the door. Strange that they would put this inside of here, he thought as he put his palm to the reader, and was met with sharp buzz, followed by the voice of Major Phasma boredly saying “Authorization Unrecognized, please try again.” It was odd to hear her voice come out of the machine, he would’ve suspected it would be something more generic.

Who lived here before me? As the thought entered Picard’s mind, he checked back to the cycle clock on his wall, he must’ve been somewhat in synch with whoever was using it before based on how tired he felt.

With questions racing through his mind, he went to bed. There wasn’t much he could do to solve the problems as it stood, so he let the thoughts float to the recesses of his mind as he drifted to sleep and the sensors in the room dimmed the lights accordingly.

In his sleep, Picard stood on the precipice of the universe, watching as all of existence stood beneath him. He saw faint white spheres of light begin to glow across the cosmos to the sound of wind chimes, slow sprouts of energy that quickly turned into a pulsating storm. A mechanical breathing came into his ear, its labored exhales creating a harmony with the universe. The breathing got faster as the universe’s light grew, reaching a blinding crescendo as all of reality shrank. The universe became a galaxy, the galaxy became a solar system, and the breath became a grinding whisper as it focused on a small dwarf of a planet, a grey husk that unpeeled as a mechanical arm slowly hatched from its surface and reached its hand out to the stars.

Picard’s sight dissolved as he now stood in his family vineyard, a glass of wine in his hand. He took a smell of it and smelled of the breezes on the deserts of the Sahara, a distinct dryness with subtle hints of herbs and beasts of the desert. He swirled the glass took a sip of it, and tasted a sharp pang of iron with a building amount of salt in it. Picard pursed his lips at the taste and wiped his finger on his tongue to see a dark droplet of blood on his fingertips. 

As he walked through the vineyard, he put his fingers to the grapes, with each he touched, drops of blood emerged, until the once lively green vines turned a viscous red, staining the earth.

The soil faded to darkness, and the darkness faded to the faint orange glow of his room as Picard woke to the sound door sliding open.

He was greeted by Major Phasma standing with her rifle held close to her chest with the barrel pointed towards the ceiling.

“It’s morning, Jedi,” Phasma said as she entered the room, roughly brushing past Picard as the door immediately closed itself behind her. “I guess I should say, Scientist or Doctor Picard now. Do you have a preference?”

“Depends, which answer will convince you I’m not a jedi quicker?” Picard asked as he rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up as the images from his dream lingered in his mind. 

“Neither, only actions will do that,” Phasma said.

Picard looked to the clock above him, he had only been asleep for seven hours, if he was on a planet it would’ve been the crack of dawn. “I presume there’s some formal reason for waking up this early?” he asked.

Phasma watched as Picard rose from his bed, then slung her rifle behind her back. “Meeting our new team. Do whatever you must to get ready, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to rendezvous to the mess hall.”

Phasma put her palm to the door, and as she put her palm on it, the same soft male voice from inside of the shuttle ship said, “User recognized, permission granted.”

Before she left, Picard said, “New team?” He didn’t want to broach the subject as roughly as asking ‘What happened to your old one?’ or 'Did anyone of your old team survive the attack’ but his tone implied the questions.

“Old team will recover. The one who remains of it,” Phasma said bluntly as she exited the room.

Picard had a fine enough shower, but once he stepped out he realized he had a panging pain going through his head. It wasn’t quite like a migraine or a headache, but as if someone had taken hold of his skull and was jabbing their fingers into his temple over and over again. He looked on the countertop of the sink for any sort of painkillers, but wasn’t shocked in the slightest to see there weren’t any. 

Picard crouched down to the bottom of the countertop, and looked at where the metal of the ship met the base of the countertop. Interestingly, they were one in the same, as if the piece had grown out of the floors and walls themselves.

After getting himself dressed in his grey uniform with black leather gloves and boots, he put his Starfleet pin inside of one of his pockets. Tagge had asked for the pin, but after Picard told him it was how he communicated, and that himself, as well as all the knowledge he did and would carry would be moot, Tagge relented and let him keep it.

Picard’s phaser however, was something that Tagge said he would hold onto for “Safekeeping.”

The door slid open again, it was Major Phasma, who said nothing as she waited silently in the doorway. 

Picard walked towards the Major, and she led him to the elevator. It was interesting, Picard thought, that the room they had placed him within was the one closest to Tagge and Phasma’s.

Whoever had lived in the room before likely wasn’t military personnel, as there weren’t many obvious marks of deconstruction. Nearly all of the pieces of furniture and machinery in this ship were made of steel metal or welded into the ship, so anything that would’ve been removed would leave marks of their removal. 

If all he had was a bathroom, a work desk, a bed, and an entire bookshelf that reached from the floor to the ceiling, was he perhaps some sort of academic?

The subject hadn’t been broached yet, so Picard decided to solve this mystery as they rode down the elevator. “My room … who lived in it before me?” He asked Phasma.

“A scientist,” She said. 

They rode down the elevator in silence.

When they got to their stop, they were greeted to a hallway teeming with soldiers standing side to side. None of them were wearing their helmets, making Phasma the odd one out. 

Phasma made a sigh as she looked to Picard. “This is only for today and to speed up our meeting. For future reference, we will all be waking up thirty minutes earlier for this,” she said, then pressed a small button on the side of her helmet that let out two short and sharp whistles that screeched over the noise of the chatter in the hallway.

The soldiers spread apart, and Phasma motioned for Picard to walk alongside her as they headed to the mess hall.

Walking beside her, Picard noted, was the first of their making appearances. Now that they were of at least somewhat equal standing, it would be harder for Phasma to be as hostile to him in public.

“So why are we eating at this time today then? Stay up late I presume?” Picard asked.

“Yes, going over who we would be meeting today. There was some discussion on who would be on the team but I believe we’ve come to a good compromise,” Phasma said.

She had obviously been working in a massive organization for quite some time; she chose a surprisingly diplomatic way of saying she didn’t like some of, presumably Tagge’s, picks and had at least attempted to have them canned for her own.

After getting through dozens of soldiers, they entered into the mess hall, an area larger than the hangar where the only noticeable architectural difference in it was that the ships had been swapped out with dining tables. The long rectangular tables were separated equidistant from one another. The majority of and the longest of the tables were a dull gray, then there were five pitch black tables of medium length, and finally the smallest was a singular crimson red table that was at the very end of the hall.

“An assortment by rank I presume?” Picard asked.

“Somewhat. People are free to move to lower tables when they please, and it’s not like officers have their own tables. With how often we get into firefights you can die shoulder to shoulder with anyone on this ship, no time to waste acting superior to them,” Phasma said as they walked to their table, a black table in the middle of all the others. 

There were three Death troopers already at the table with their helmets off, each carved into their own sections with half a dozen seemingly regular stormtroopers who had two black stripes on. “Those are the rest of my fireteam, though Tagge usually has us split into our own operations, as you saw during your rescue,” Phasma said.

“Doctor Picard, say hello to Andres Cahzaharin, Eura Eun-Yeong, and Lars Oleo,” Phasma said.

The other death troopers all had their helmets off and placed in front of their food trays. Although they had just begun eating, they took a moment for greetings.

Andres seemed unphased by Picard’s arrival, with a perpetually tired look in his hazel brown eyes, he gave a slow nod to Picard, and went back to eating his food, a fat piece of steak with a side of what seemed to be clam chowder. 

Andres had to brush his hair away from his face as he ate with a technique that confused Picard to some part of his core. Picard watched the man eat his soup using a combination of sifting through it with his fork and just putting the bowl to his face so that it slopped onto his short unkempt beard, when he tired of that he took his steak knife that had a handle wrapped in a piece of blank white paper, and attacked his steak as if he was trying to kill it for a second time.

Eura seemed much more attentive, she placed her fork down in her scrambled eggs to walk over to Picard, and firmly shook his hand as she looked him square in the eyes, a solid foot above herself and said “Pleasure to meet you, Doctor Picard. I’m glad we were able to rescue you from that Jedi scum!” She had a bubbly look on her face as she shined a perfect white grin with high and cheery cheekbones, as if his “rescue” was one of the happiest things she had ever encountered.

Lars followed up Eura, pausing to brush his hands over his armor trying to make sure there were no marks on it, then rubbed his hands together and slicked his wavy blonde hair back.

“Lars Oleo at your service, Doctor. Don’t forget it,” Lars said with a wink.

The two shook hands, but Lars was oddly quick, so fast that Picard was nearly taken off balance.

As their handshake finished, Picard could feel the pain in his forehead again. It wasn’t that the pain increased so much as moved, as he felt his nose begin to trickle blood. He took a napkin from one of the dispensers on table and squeezed it to his nose as he tilted his head back. The moment he did, his pain disappeared, and he felt better than he had all day.

“Fantastic, you’ve met. Now time to get our food and get seated,” Phasma said dully as she walked to the serving area that lined nearly an entire wall.

As they went to get their food, Picard saw Lars mouth, “Good luck,” to him.

The choices available to them were surprisingly diverse for a spacefaring vessel, there was seafood of every ocean, meats of every creature, and fruits and vegetables of every tree. Picard barely knew where to start since they were all completely foreign to him, but with Phasma as his guide to get them to the front of the line, he settled on Sarlac au gratin with a vegetable medley. 

“This is quite the amount of choices for a vessel of this size, I daresay it probably holds more people on it than my old ship did,” Picard said.

“The benefits of a massive trade network. Rebels may spring up here and there, a few planets may make attempts to defect, but the Empire still has access to every resource it would ever want in the galaxy,” Phasma said.

She pointed to his nose and said in a hushed tone, “That alright? Pre-existing condition or new one?”

“New,” Picard said, “It started this morning with a headache, but I feel better now.” As he took the napkin away from his nose, he tapped his finger to his nose and saw that the bleeding had stopped completely.

“Strange,” Phasma said. The word hung in the air for a moment as Phasma looked at Picard, then went with her tray of scrambled eggs and oats back to their table as Picard followed at her side.

A few minutes passed, and then three stormtroopers came to the table.

Without their helmets on, Picard noticed that they looked nearly unable to hold in their excitement. Sure they walked with formal form and were taking all of the correct postures, but it was the first day of their new promotions it seemed, their black stripes on their shoulder pads were waxed so finely they could see the reflections of their eager faces on them.

“Sorry for our tardiness Major Phasma, a slight mix up with the last minute changes, my name is---” the stormtrooper stopped as Phasma held a hand in front of him.

“No need for introductions, we’ll save those until the breakfast after our first mission. If you can survive that, grand, but I don’t need to waste formal introductions on someone I’m only going to spend a few hours with.”

Phasma undid her helmet as she saw her new recruits begin eating and put it on the table. She had short shaved blonde hair that was showing the first signs of receding and blue eyes that looked ready to cut through anyone at a moment’s notice. Her hooked nose had two faded serrated scars on them that matched nicely with the cut going across her lips, and the small surgical scar across her forehead. With her perpetual scowl and the rest of her features highlighted by the swarming army of freckles on her face, some may have called the woman uncomely, but those were not people who had a vested interest in taking part in the living world.

“You three, until after after your first mission; You’re N1, N2, and N3,” Phasma said as she pointed her finger at them in order. 

One of them pointed a finger to himself, he was slightly chubbier than the rest of the stormtroopers, and his soft features and innocent looks made him look like he’d be much happier as a baker or a gardener than a soldier. “What does the ‘N’ stand for?” he asked.

“Name, N1,” Phasma said as she looked at him with a completely blank face.

“And I am Doctor Jean Luc Picard, a pleasure to meet you,” Picard said. He offered a hand for them to shake, but the new members looked at Phasma’s complete ignoral of the conversation, and the only response he got was a nervous smile from N1.

While they went through their lunch in complete silence, the other teams were showing a camaraderie that Picard couldn’t help but notice looked similar to Starfleet’s. Cahzaharin was stuffing his face but making comments to his team when he came up for air, Eura was politely discussing her next mission with her group, and Oleo was loudly speaking over every person at his table, but they at least seemed to tolerate him a bit.

The only difference was the obvious gap. No aliens on the ship, only humans, humans of every race he could imagine, but apparently aliens were a step too far. An Empire that stretched from one end of the galaxy to another, yet couldn’t open their arms to others, a tragedy if ever he’d seen one.

“Our mission,” Phasma said to their group, “Is to go to Sullust. There’s been hints of a rebellion smuggling ring rising up through the Rimma Trade Route, and we’re being dispatched to nip it in the bud. Our group will be dispatched above the orbit, the rest of this ship will move on, and we’ll rendezvous with them in three cycles.”

“Do we have any leads?” N2 asked, a woman who was was fidgeting in her seat, her knee bobbing up and down as she tapped the floor until she gripped onto it hard enough to stop it. 

“Just the refinery workers and the guards down there telling us about strange individuals they’ve seen. The planet is a lot like Mustafar. From my experience, that means we can expect a lot of walking around on a surface as hot as a damned furnace, and crawling through tunnels that are only swelteringly hot.” Phasma said.

N2 made a sigh as she ran her hand through her red mohawk. “I hate heat planets,” she said.

“Well you’re probably going to hate a lot of our missions in the future. Welcome to Phasma Squad,” Phasma said.

N3 was the only one who didn’t say anything the whole meal, showing his attention only when Phasma spoke, and smiling to himself for the rest of the meal when his steel knife made grating cuts against the plate.

When their breakfast was finished Phasma looked to Picard, “You have research to do in your room, don’t you Doctor? Something about that headache you were telling me earlier?”

PIcard arched a brow at her, it was obviously some sort of code, but how did the headache tie into it? 

“Ah, yes, of course, I nearly forgot. Thank you for reminding me, Major.” Picard said as he stood from the table with his plate.

“Oh don’t worry, I can get that for you, Doctor,” N1 said as he pointed at Picard’s plate and motioned for him to hand them over.

When Picard handed his plates to N1, he followed up, saying, “Doing research on headaches? My brother used to get them from space travel all the time. Best way to fix them is to always hold your nose and sip a cup of coffee until it's gone. Our Mom always hated it, but it made our headaches go away.”

“That’s enough, N1. It’s time for some training,” Phasma said. Once she stood up to take her food away, the rest of them followed behind her, while Picard headed back to his room.

Research the headache? There must of been a clue in the statement earlier. Perhaps something from earlier on meant to tie the two together. Could something on this ship be giving me these headaches that I should look out for, or was it something else entirely?

As Picard stood deep in thought as the elevator rode to his floor, he heard a loud bang come from within the elevator. He saw a divot form above his head, then one underneath him, and finally two small bumps churned out of the elevator walls in unison. 

The elevator came to a halt, and as the doors were slid open, Picard saw the man that Tagge had told him of. Lord Vader was standing alone in a hallway, with only one open hand reached out from his cape. 

“Doctor Picard, It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Vader said.

Picard looked at Vader as he stood his ground. It wasn’t like there was anywhere he could run to, or any weapon to fight with, it seemed his fate lied in this conversation.

“The pleasure is mine,” Picard said, “I’ve heard many great things of your exploits. I look forward to seeing some in person, Lord Vader.”

Picard gave Vader an amicable smile as Vader closed one of his fingers, the divot above Picard sunk back into place.

“Did you give any information to the rebels during your capture?”

“No.”

Another divot on the elevator doors closed.

“Did you obtain any information from the jedi during your capture?”

“No, Lord Vader.”

Another divot closed, then slowly the rest followed suit.

“Good, Doctor. A leak of information could lead to a tragic loss of life,” Vader said, as Picard began to feel blood slowly come from his nose.

Vader closed his fist and the elevator doors slammed shut with a thunderous clap. As Picard covered his ears from the echoing noise, the elevator shot to Picard’s floor in an instant that was so quick he had to force himself from sinking to the floor. 

The doors opened, and the bleeding stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the new schedule folks! Turns out publishing on Thursdays makes a lot more sense than Wednesdays, so that's what I'm going to do. In lieu of doing Game of Thrones style chapters, I do the next best thing, give you chapters filled with foods. 
> 
> P.S. I spent like a solid hour trying to make the other members of the Death Trooper fire team a food pun after I figured out that Oleo is another word for margarine. Like all of their last names were just going to be a food of a culture from the other member of their group to show how like, centralized humanity has become under the Empire's rule. Unfortunately, after changing Eun-Yeong's (her first name) last name from Park to Whopper, I was like, "Ya know what, maybe ... maybe next time." So instead, I just settled for kind've putting one of [my favorite song lyrics in that part ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AgyeUHH_V0g)
> 
> See you next time!
> 
> -Faris Beshma


	9. A Servant of the Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Two urns on Jove's high throne have ever stood, the source of evil one, and one of good; from thence the cup of mortal man he fills, blessings to these, to those distributes ills; to most he mingles both." - Homer_
> 
> Zelloa Khappar guides his ship of the Force Faithful through the galaxy, on the hunt for users of the Force.

“A disturbance in the Force” Nothing more than a blasphemy of a forgotten era. A saying that had deservedly faded into history, just as its originators had.

What could even be a disturbance in the Force? The Force was what bound the universe together, it was more plentiful than oxygen, farther reaching than all the light in the cosmos, how could it be disturbed? There were only ways the force could be interacted with, too say it was disturbed would be nothing more than a folly of mortal perception.

Zelloa Khappar had learned the true way of the Force from a young age, they were merely a vessel of the force. They could cause no disturbance, cause no harmony, they were only to spread the knowledge of the Force, to show its vessels the path of acknowledgement. The Jedi were dead, the Sith were few in number, but the Force? The Force would, nor could, ever leave them.

And if either the Jedi or Sith came back, trying to use the Force as if it was simple plaything to be manipulated to their whims? They would be met with the true power of a vessel of the Force, the only truth in the galaxy would be shown to them by the Force Faithfuls. 

The First Step was a ship wielded together from destroyed ships, a perfect sphere of grey, red, yellow, blue, and black that was currently orbiting the planet of Takodana. They came across one other ship in orbit, it was over a dozen times their size and of some build they had never seen before, two massive sections that were combined together. Zelloa felt force sensitive members aboard the odd ship, but they were not the primary reason for their being in this location, they could be converted later.

The Force had shown them the truth once again and their seer had interpreted correctly, Takodanna had been attacked by the Empire and the “Chosen One”. 

Zelloa could sense them, their brow furrowing as they felt each of people’s screams through the Force. Grief, desperation, rage, the inhabitants of Maz Kanata’s castle had been left to die. With the shipyard completely destroyed and only a small pocket of survivors who had escaped being rounded up during the raid, the situation was looking dire for many of them. Somehow there were others though, wandering about in perfect health, perhaps they were stormtroopers and officers who had been left behind to monitor. 

The window for success was small, likely they would not want to be cooperative with them during a moment of such loss, but Zelloa had dealt with many such cases before, and they knew how best to make the survivors and members of the Empire talk.

Zelloa looked to their brothers and sisters aboard the ship and sent a telepathic message, a connection brought through the Force.

It is time to guide them, family. Zelloa messaged them, and no sooner did the First Step descend to the planet’s surface.

The First Step hovered mere feet above the former landing pad at the crack of dawn. Where once dozens of ships of convenience and livelihood laid were now mangled heaps of burnt steel and glass. 

Move the ships, they may be of use later, Zelloa messaged, and their brother and sisters closed their eyes in unison and the force Flowed through them. The out of of operation ships flew to the sky for one last time as they were lifted off of the ground to make way for The First Step. 

Zelloa could feel it from inside the ship, the shouts of confusion, people running in a panic. Those not knowledgeable in the force were always ready to make assumptions. Zelloa made a sigh as the ship stamped onto the ground. His family already knew the procedure, they would not need to be told that this would be a solo operation.

The Sphere opened, a cockpit hatch with steel wielded over it, and out emerged Zelloa to the shocked mass of injured civilians and some organization wearing red, blue, and yellow uniforms.

Zelloa stood short for someone with their sense of importance. Although they carried themselves with a firm attitude and stature, Zelloa’s androgynous face and features were as soft and smooth velvet. Their clothes were plain, just a grey tunic and gray sandals. They carried no weapon on them, but walked with confidence through the wreckage, their unblinking gaze held to the crowd as they approached them.

With each step they took towards the mass, dust and debris moved from in front of them, not from the wind, but from slight movements of Zelloa’s hand wafting back and forth.

“I’m sorry about your recent loss,” Zelloa said as they lifted a jagged remains of an X-Wing’s blaster past them with the help of the Force, placing it down like it was a piece of fragile glass.

They saw the crowd take a step back, beginning to ready themselves for the worst case scenario. Zelloa raised their hand to them, a show of good faith and terror all in one.

“Your weakest, those most injured by the attack. Bring them to me, please.” Zelloa said as they looked at the crowd.

And they were brought to Zelloa. The broken, the ruined, the lost, many had already been taken back to become one with the force. There were mutters among the survivors and one of the people in a blue uniform seemed to be speaking into some communicator, but it made no difference, there was finally one who seemed to be just barely hanging onto life.

A Forisch in colorful robes, one of the people in blue uniforms tried to tell him that they were already busy trying to help him, that he was to be the first on some “medbay” but that was irrelevant to Zelloa. With a swipe of his hand the blue uniformed man’s eyes glazed over, he spoke his approval of the situation, and then went back to helping others.

Zelloa put one hand to the forisch’s head, the vessel was torn but not broken. A faint blue aura surrounded them as Zelloa scavenged. 

A descendant tied to the Kanata Crew, A life spent guarding Maz Kanata. Flickers of wonder, dreams of independence, but an adherence to responsibility. Days filled by routine with only odd breaks out of the ordinary, such as yesterday. Strange visitors saying they were from another galaxy, wore the same uniforms Zelloa had seen earlier. Interesting.

As they removed their hand from Bahsaum’s head the forisch’s eyes creaked open and the aura between the two faded away. Zelloa’s work was done, the vessel had been fixed.

“You helped but … why … why does my head feel so fuzzy?” Bahsaum asked.

Zelloa stood and felt something odd, vessels of the force had just approached them quicker than they ever had before, instantaneous but he hadn’t been alerted of anyone going into hyperspace . 

“Because of an equal exchange,” Zelloa said as they stood up and turned their back on Bahsaum. They heard the forisch scramble away from him as he saw more members of the people from Bahsaum’s memories, Starfleet. 

Zelloa’s eyes scanned the three inconsequential ones, but immediately locked onto the woman in a purple and gray uniform. They could feel it, a stirring within the vessel. This would be an enlightening visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well sometimes you get very lucky, and the chapter you intended to be very short for multiple weeks coincides with the week you have many social obligations and also get hooked on X-Com 2 again (whoops).
> 
> Its my first time playing X-Com since getting the War of the Chosen expansion a year ago, and let me tell you, having the ability to save and replay turns really makes the experience far more painful than it needs to be sometimes. On one hand there's plenty of new game play elements that I kind of need a few go through to understand, but also, I like rolling with the punches. Sometimes you just need to wade through things until they get better, and they do get better, whether that's through progress on the path you were expecting, or if you have to scrap what you were planning and start over. 
> 
> Anyways, that's my writing advice for the week, hope everything is going well for you readers! 
> 
> Ta ta for now!
> 
> -Faris Beshma


	10. Masks and Reliefs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _REPORTER: But how do we do it?_  
  
_THOMPSON: How do we think?_
> 
> _REPORTER: With our minds._
> 
> _THOMPSON: And how does the mind think? What is the thinking process? Exactly how do we remember,imagine, deduce, create? Exactly how do the brain cells operate?_
> 
> _REPORTER: I don't know. Nobody knows._
> 
> _\- Alfred Bester, _The Stars My Destination__
> 
> Troi begins her journey of understanding the Force, as she, Han, and Geordi encounters the mysterious Zelloa in the ruins of Maz's Castle.

Deanna Troi's sleep was as her day had been, chaotic. After hours of thrashing and turning, she felt like she’d barely gotten any rest at all, and worse yet, she couldn’t remember a single dream.

Whenever she had nightmares as a child, her mother would always tell her that it was the mind's way of speaking up. ‘A worry in the mind makes for an ill time,’ she would say, but not a whole lot of use when she already knew she was having quite the time to begin with.

Her captain kidnapped, rogues aboard the ship, not to mention the fact that they were in a galaxy so far away that they could all be dead before they could even get back home using warp 9, if they could get back home to begin with. 

Would she ever even see her mother again, or were the memories the only thing she’d have left of her? Echoes of interactions were all she’d have left, never another day to hear her overbearing voice, or getting to tell her to calm down as she rambled on and on about how she needed to get married. Never another chance to tell her she loved her. 

It was easy to avoid the subject in the adrenaline of yesterday, but now the thought of their situation made Troi want to lay in bed for the rest of the day and let the blankets shield her from the world. But it wasn’t time to get lost in that thought, there was work to be done, and through work, she may help find a way back home. 

She got herself ready for the day; washed up, put on her grey uniform, and used her replicator to make a quick breakfast of cereal and toast. 

Usually she would go to breakfast in one of the ship’s dining halls so she could see how her friends and co-workers were doing, but she didn’t feel that would be exactly the best decision for today. Ever since arriving to this galaxy, her betazoid senses had been going into overdrive. Before she was able to feel the emotions coming off of people, sometimes it was so obvious she didn’t need to use her senses and only used them to be certain, but other times it would help get to the more subtle parts of their emotions that they didn’t let off of the surface. 

Now however, it was like she was able to see people’s psyche like an open book, like they were nearly shouting their intentions at her. If this was just a part of “becoming a woman,” some sort of second puberty, her mother would’ve never stopped telling her about it, something strange was happening, and she needed to get to the bottom of it sooner than later.

With every strange thing Deanna had seen across her journeys, it was imperative that she found out what was causing her senses to go haywire. Better it get resolved before it turned out to be some sort of parasite, or a ghost, or maybe a creature from another dimension playing another trick on her.

She had tried getting her dear friend and coworker, Doctor Beverly Crusher, to try and help on it last night, but she was too preoccupied. Aside from reading the vitals of her son, Worf, and the injured crewmates, Beverly was barely able to stop herself from going into tangential ramblings about “foreign samples' samplings” before disappearing into her work.

Troi wasn’t shocked when she couldn’t get any clear emotional reading out of Beverly. The doctor was racing with so many emotions at once that trying to pick one out was a fool’s errand; Anxiety, excitement, fear, wonder, all she knew was that Beverly would put it into her work.

Troi heard the familiar beep of an incoming transmission from her communicator, “Counselor Troi to the meeting room,” It was Riker. Seemed that the time for planning today’s Away Team mission had come.

When she got to the meeting room, Riker, Han, Chewie, and all of the Senior Officers, were already sitting in their spots at the table.

“Great, we’re all here” Riker said with a smile. “Now for today’s meeting its a fairly simple procedure, we just need the bartending droid from yesterday to help us with the ship’s navigation, and then we’re on our way to our next stop.”

Riker’s attention turned towards Worf and Data. “You two have already done tremendous work in the field, but I believe that it's best we rotate our Away Team, let us all have some experience in this galaxy before we get along too far.”

“Well listen,” Han said, “I live in this galaxy so you’re going to need me. Can’t have you all wandering around blind, and I’ll get you a good price on the droid too.” Han kicked his feet up on the table, to the ire of Riker, but he did have a point.

“Sorry to get off track for a moment, but have we heard anymore updates from the relief team sent out earlier?” Doctor Crusher asked.

Troi looked to Doctor Crusher in confusion, what relief team had even been sent out? Was there some meeting from before that she had missed? She thought of asking aloud about it, but it would look unprofessional, bickering in front of a new ally.

“Relief team?” Han was darting his eyes back and forth from Riker to Doctor Crusher. “You think the people down there will take relief? Hell by the time I get down there we may already have a hostage situation on our hands.”

“That won’t be an issue,” Riker said. “We’ve sent out a few of our medics along with security personnel to accompany them two hours ago. They’re helping the survivors of the Empire’s attack, it’s a quick way to help out those less fortunate and get some more information if we’re lucky.”

“So you’ve got a bunch of armed guys and medics out there? Better be careful or else we all may think you’re participating in the actual war.” Deanna couldn’t get a clear read of Han, he was somewhere between mocking and an earnest warning. 

Han may have had a point, from all evidence they’d seen, this galaxy was a powder keg that was already in the middle of exploding. Why hadn’t she been consulted at all before they made such a large decision, who was even leading this relief team, and how many people were they putting at risk with it? The question that wouldn’t stop nagging her though, was Riker ready to be captain?

“We’ve already been dragged into the war,” Riker said, “The least we can do is help those affected.” As the words left his lips, a silence descended on the room.

This, Troi noted, was not an idea they had even once had a meeting about.

“Well, glad to hear you’re stepping up to the plate,” Han said matter of factly. Chewie gave him a look with a raised brow, and Han placed his hand to his chest in mock offense.

“What? We all end up picking some sort of side. Eventually.” All eyes went to Han as he said his piece.

“How long have you been a part of the Rebel Alliance?” Riker asked.

“I prefer to think about it more as what I’ve done for them, not how long I’ve worked for them,” Han said. “And I saved their tail from complete annihilation, so I think we can say I at least like them a little bit.” 

“So what? Less than a year?” Riker was beginning to get impatient, this meeting was already spiraling out from its original purpose and time was of the essence. He wanted the meeting to hurry up, but if they ended up allying with the wrong person, it could already be over before it began.

“More like a month, but who’s counting?” Han saw the shocked looks around the table, well all except from that Data. Han was beginning to notice that service was something they took very seriously around here. “Look when we get to a repairs I’ll show you some of the Rebels and we can have a grand formal greeting. Until then I’m the best you’ve got.”

Riker gave the smugglers a look as stern as stone. What he wouldn’t have given to have their first contact have been an actual soldier or general of the Rebel Alliance, anyone who actually spoke for them with some reliability.

“I suppose you’re right. Time will tell how this all pans out,” Riker said wearily. “As for the relief team, I’ve received no more updates than the last one we got. I’m sure if anything more than a few pockets of survivors comes up, they’ll reach out to us.”

Doctor Crusher nodded in agreement, Troi could sense that she was anxious. She had every right to be, with her son almost killed in action, and a team of some of her closest coworkers out there now trying to help whoever was left from the battle. But something else was there too, an anxiety that felt more distant than anything that was happening to them.

“One more question pertaining to the medical field,” Doctor Crusher said as her eyes attention went to Chewie. “I was hoping to get your approval run a medical examination.” 

Chewie let out a low growl, and Doctor Crusher responded quickly, seeing that the fellow was already starting to get agitated at the proposition.

“Nothing invasive, we just need to make a quick scan to see if you’re carrying any pathogens or viruses that could be harmful to either of us.” Doctor Crusher said.

“Well why didn’t you get any from me?” Han asked.

“Well,” Doctor Crusher said as she took a long breath, giving the smuggler a knowing look, “after you ordered the bottles to your room last night and left a few in our hallways, we already had the samples that we needed. Somehow, against all previously known laws of science, you’re exactly as human as us, and thankfully carry no new diseases or viruses that could infect the crew.”

Han stuck up his finger in protest. “Most made it to the trash can.”

Troi saw Riker’s growing frustration as they looked at each other across the table. She could easily sense it in him, but not like she really needed to, she’d been working with the man closely for years. He never wanted this position, he was perfectly happy in his previous position, helping solve disputes on the ship and being a right hand to the captain. As the ever so subtle clenching of his jaw showed, being captain was a whole different matter.

“We’re getting off track, Mr. Solo. Chewie, would you mind staying aboard the ship for just another hour or so? That’s all it will take and I promise you that nothing wrong will happen.” Riker had hoped that looking the Wookie in the eyes would help establish some trust, but instead he was only met with a snarl of teeth. Chewie did not look swayed.

“Call it an exercise in trust,” Deanna said. “You trusted us enough to come onboard the ship, and we trusted you enough to let you spend the night here. We are on the same team now, what would we have to gain from harming you?” 

“She does have a point,” Han said.

Chewie made a grumble as he shrugged. He would help, but they had to be careful if they wanted to keep their arms in their sockets.

“Glad to hear it. This will be painless enough procedure that you only have to worry about threatening to tear our arms off,” Doctor Crusher said warmly. Another day in bedside manner across the galaxy.

“Now that that’s settled,” Riker said, “For the Away Team, I want it to comprise of Han, Geordi, Deanna, and once the medical procedures are done, Doctor Crusher.”

Deanna was slightly taken aback, had Riker really come to trust these two that quickly? No, it was probably more practical; They were already down a captain, Riker going with them wouldn’t be the wisest idea for quite some time. Besides, these two did know the area best, and this was only a quick stop, get the astromech droid and continue on to their next place, not like they were establishing first contact for a second time.

“Are there any objections?” Riker asked, and as no objections were spoken, the meeting came to a close. “Great to hear, I’ll see you all off to the transporter bay.” 

Just as they left the meeting room, a crew member's voice came through the room’s speakers, “An unidentified object has just entered the planet’s atmosphere, it had its communications turned off and made a beeline straight for the planet.”

“Was it sphere shaped?” Han asked, but no one responded. Han looked at Riker and Troi, wondering what exactly was happening, and Riker pressed his starfleet pin to open communication with the bridge. 

“Was it sphere shaped?” Riker asked.

“Yes captain, it was a sphere shape. Visuals show it seems to be a bunch of different ships cobbled together,” The crew member said. 

“Well sounds like my guess was right, had a gut feeling the Force Faithful would be here.” Han tapped his finger to his vest. “When am I gonna get one of those badges? May be helpful if I see, I don’t know, anything that may end up saving both of our lives.”

Riker put his finger to his badge and looked at Han. “When you’ve been here longer than a month.”

Troi saw that instead of offended, Han actually looked eager to take him up on his offer, a smirk forming on his face. She wasn’t sure to be impressed or terrified, it seemed they had picked up someone with an ego that could rival Riker’s.

“Oh,” Han said, “I’ll show you a month’s worth of work in a day with how much help you guys need.”

“Captain, they flew right past us and have made landfall. Only one person seems to be coming out of the ship.” The crewman could barely be heard over the sound of Riker rushing his team to the transporter room. 

The Away Team was getting into position in the transporter room as they heard one last message from their communicators.

“They…. They’re lifting pieces of debris with their mind! I’m starting to feel faint,” One of the relief team members said.

Riker gave one last look to the team, “I’ll have your back,” he said. “Lt. O’Brien, send them out.”

Troi got one last look at Riker before they were beamed down to Takadonna, he was already running back to the bridge.

* * *

When they first beamed down to the planet, Troi saw that the situation was much stranger than they had described; the man she’d heard of, Bahsaum, seemed to be retreating in some sort of shock filled terror, and standing in front of them was some person who looked closer to something out of the greek pantheon than any smuggler or soldier.

_My name is Zelloa, what is yours?_ Telepathy? Troi thought it was quite unbecoming of them to open with something so personal.

“My name is Deanna Troi, Counselor for the USS Enterprise. I didn’t expect to meet a fellow telepath out here, Zelloa.” As she said their name, Zelloa only stared back blankly.

“Mind tricks? Is that this one’s speciality? Ah, who am I kidding, it’s a shocker enough that one of you is special,” Han said. “The Force Faithful have gotten a pretty bad rap for just being a bunch of weirdos in robes saying they have powers, but nice to see some of you can pass the bar at least a little bit. Now if you don’t mind us, we have places to be--”

Zelloa lifted a hand and said, “Watch your step, the mud gets deep.” Han went from calmly walking across the dirt to looking like he was trying to trudge through waist high mud. With each step it seemed to take more and more effort to move, until he couldn’t move any further, struggling in place on the bone dry dirt.

“I’m sorry, you seem to not understand why I’m having this conversation with you in the first place,” Zelloa said.

Troi and Geordie both pulled out their phasers and set them to stun. 

“If you have any information on an astromech droid we’d love to hear it, other wise we’re in a bit of a rush so…” Geordie trailed off, hoping that Zelloa would have some sort of response, but they only gave him a blink, then turned their attention completely to Troi.

“This one is strong through the Force,” Zelloa said as they held out their open palm in front of her, as if she wasn’t to be pointed at like some animal, but presented like royalty.

“This one,” Troi said as she placed her hand to her chest, “Is in a rush to help her crew and be on her way. Now, please release our associate.” She motioned to Han, and Zelloa released him.

Han nearly stumbled to the floor, his momentum from before feeling like it all came through at once. Once he got himself to together, he turned to Zelloa

“Help you with a droid? There’s no need to worry yourself with such machines, I can sense that you have a much higher purpose than that.” Zelloa’s tone was so neutral, so devoid of any intention or even hint at what they were actually feeling, Troi felt lucky to have her betazoid senses. They felt nothing, or more accurately, had a mask of nothing, she could pry it off, but it would take a considerable amount of work, and they would surely notice.

Zelloa, for a person who seemed to think themselves above others, did seem to be recognizing how unconvincing they were. When they looked to Troi, they seemed to be doing their best interpretation of someone pleading, their arms stretched wide as their face contorted into a smile.

“I posit that you think the same way I do, that if you get a feel for someone’s emotional state, you can find the best solution,” Zelloa said, “ We both realize when people need help in this cruel world. More important to focus on your goals to help, not its technicalities, am I correct?”

“Ya know,” Geordie whispered into Troi’s ear, “I think we should just leave the weirdo to their business and head on our way.”

Troi ignored Geordie, this Zelloa person was onto something, somewhat. If he was able to move objects like their team had said, perhaps Zelloa had abilities similar to Darth Vader. Was this stranger trying to say she had powers similar to both of them?

“No,” Troi said to Zelloa, “How you go about something is just as important as what you do. People may forget your actions, but they won’t forget how you made them feel.”

_A noble senti--- _Zelloa tried to message Troi again through the Force. But he found himself blocked out.

For once, an earnest emotion showed on Zelloa’s face, a crack of confusion slipped through. “You … you are already versed in conjoining with the Force?” they asked. 

“What are you talking about? I have training in how to block out amateur telepaths such as yourself.” It seemed Troi’s mother’s insistence on giving her daily betazoid telepathy continued to pay for themselves everyday.

Zelloa took a step back, and Troi didn’t need her senses to understand what was happening, they were conceding. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but it seemed that they were trying to reach a compromise with her.

Troi expected more of Zelloa’s emotions to seep out, but there mask went back up, their tone was entirely neutral as they said, “I understand. I do not waste to wish your time, as I can only assume you and and the much spoken of Captain Solo are on a … laudable mission. Will you perhaps be open to a trade?”

“Trade?” Han said.

Why? Why was this smugglers attention already taken away. Troi thought that he was supposed to be guiding them to the droid, not getting distracted at every possible opportunity.

“I give you a holopad, you read it. It is more important that our kind nourish one another than spend time creating a conflict,” The moment the words came out of Zelloa’s mouth, Han continued walking away to the first survivor he could find to ask them if the bartending astromech droid, Gee, was still around. “I understand that sometimes I may come off a bit intimidating, but it’s imperative you read our literature.“

Troi took a moment to look at the relief team. No one was harmed, and in fact the survivors seemed to be, overall, in better shape than when they were yesterday. Zelloa may have scared the people, but they hadn’t actually harmed them. What was the worst that could happen from indulging them?

“Oh a pamphlet,” Geordie said aloud with a grin on his face, then whispered to Troi, “I hoped I had seen the last of these people on earth.”

“I …. Am afraid I have no idea what a pamphlet is,” Zello said flatly as they walked past the two. “It’s not on my person right now, I’ll retrieve one out of my ship and give it to you when you finish finding your droid.”

Before Troi and Geordie could even try to catch up with Han, he was already loudly whistling for them. “Hey c’mon! She’s right over here!” he shouted as he pointed down to the droid following at his side.

“It was that easy to find the droid?” Troi asked as she and Geordie approached the pair. 

“She’s an alcohol dispensing droid, it’s a disaster. Didn’t take too much effort to find her.” Han said as he patted the top of Gee’s chassis. When he took his hand off of the droid, he saw he had been spritzed with alcohol, and put it to his nose. Dirty martini? “Sorry, I’ll remember to keep my hand off the merchandise.” 

Geordie crouched down to Gee’s level with a look of amazement on his face. “A fully independent robot? I’ve never seen anything like it, well I mean they’re similar to Data, but yet ….” The expression on Geordie’s face changed as he realized what he was saying. “Let me guess, you have some deal you want us to make too before you’ll help us?”

Gee made two curt beeps, and Geordie recoiled in surprise.

“Oh, you just want to chat with Data again. Uh, yes, that can be arranged I suppose,” Geordie said. Sounded like Data had an admirer, or at least a curious processor.

Troi heard a beep through her communicator and patched the transmission through, “This is Riker. Doctor Crusher just finished her testing, the relief team has reported they were successful, and it sounds like you’re almost finished down there. Ready to head back home?” 

Troi looked to Zelloa, they had just climbed out of their ship, and were patiently waiting right next to it. “Almost. Send the relief team up, we’ll follow in a moment,” Troi said, and began walking to Zelloa.

As the Relief Team dissolved in a blue light one after another to the confusion of the survivors, Han put a hand on Troi’s shoulder. She turned to him, and saw him show an emotion that she could tell he was unfamiliar with, worry.

“Listen Deanna, you don’t want to get involved with this. Being a jedi opens up way more danger than some people have any need to be living with,” Han said.

Troi put her hand on Han’s shoulder in an attempt to gently move it away, but for a moment, her mind blanked. She saw herself standing on the ramp of some ship, a young blonde boy was shooting his blaster at soldiers in white armor, a woman with two brunette buns on the side of her head was running behind her into the ship along with Chewie and two droids. Behind the soldiers getting shot at she saw him again, Darth Vader, stomping at a brown robe on the ground.

With a blink, Troi was back on Takodana, her breathing quick and eyes wide. She noticed she was squeezing Han’s hand as hard as she could, and quickly let go.

Han looked a bit dazed, shook his head to get his bearings, and slowly took a step back.

“Everything alright?” Geordie asked as he looked at the two.

“Yes I … I just have to grab my pamphlet.” And with that, Troi walked briskly to Zelloa, who was already holding out the holopad for Troi to take. 

Troi took the holopad, and after saying a quick thank you, tapped her communicator, “We’re ready to be brought back aboard.” She meant to sound more assertive, but felt weirdly hollow when she spoke.

Troi looked back to the rest of her team as they dissolved into blue light. Their surroundings changed from the ruined castle and jungles of Takadonna, the confused survivors and Force Awakened being changed to the sterile inside of their ship. 

The only thing that stayed the same was Han’s pain. He even looked the part judging by the celebratory look of everyone else in the room, Geordie, Riker, and O’Brien grinning from a mission well done. Han joined in with them, clapping Geordie on the back at his “way with the ladies.” The mask was on, but the face could be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit late, because as on cue, I seemed to have jinxed myself. I'm pretty into the school of writing when you don't have inspiration, because if I only wrote when I had inspiration, we would still be on chapter 1, but I ran into a much more troubling road block: Trying to write when you have literally no clue what is supposed to happen. Like, I know what overall is suppose to happen, I know the end of each arc (more or less) till the end of this fic, but sometimes you get through the first 1,000 words and are hit with a brick wall of "....Wait, where am I??? Did I write??? Am I writing something right now???" 
> 
> The way I got around it was just slapping the keyboard with words for awhile. The original ending to this chapter was going to be a 5 paragraph joke about cholesterol, and then I went "Ok, got that out of my system, still don't really have much of a clue where we're going, but I think we can rule that possibility out for the moment." 
> 
> Writing: It's process of elimination.
> 
> Anywho, hope you all enjoyed learning that I'm from below the Mason-Dixon Line today, as apparently using the phrase "wash up" in reference to brushing teeth, showering, etc. etc. is hickish. Golly brother.
> 
> See you next next week (12/5/19*) because I've gotta eat some ham hocks and biscuits this Thanksgiving!
> 
> \- Faris Beshma


	11. Picard's First Day on the Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Man is an animal that makes bargains: no other animal does this - no dog exchanges bones with another." - Adam Smith_
> 
> On their first covert operation, Phasma Squad is sent to find out about some stolen resources on Sullust, but they have something more important to find than petty thieves.

The mission was clear, they had already debriefed when they stepped onto the ship. Go to Sullust, investigate into the smuggling ring that was cutting off strategic resources, find out who was running it, destroy the group, and ensure it never rises again. That was the surface story, the story that would be sent back to the Empire to make all of the generals and the Emperor happy. It would be done, but it was not what would make Tagge and Phasma’s mission complete.

Word had gotten to the Empire that the natives had legends, some story of a warrior from millenia ago that stopped both Jedi and Sith with one mighty weapon. That was all that they had collected at least, before Vader killed the Sullustian they had in holding as a suspect for the smuggling ring.

Now they were nearing Sullust, with no real leads to their true goal, and only a vague hope at their cover story.

Picard and the rest of Phasma’s squad sat in near silence, the galaxy’s hiss, the scree of hyperdrive the only noise between them.

Picard had been promoted from a prisoner to a scientist, now sitting in one of the ships seats along the new group of recruits to Phasma’s squad, and Phasma herself at the pilot chair. 

The most silent of the group, N3, was co-piloting with Phasma, while the rest of the soldiers Phasma hadn’t deigned worthy of names yet sat to the sides of Picard, all of them facing towards the front view window.

N1, The portliest of the group, seemed content to stare out of the window, he seemed so at ease that Picard wasn’t even sure if he was awake or not. 

N3 on the other hand seemed to be struggling to keep herself entertained. Phasma had already told her to stop kicking at her own seat, so now she sat twiddling her thumbs one over the other as she stared at the ceiling.

The former Starfleet captain sat with his hands gripped together, staring at the floor as the ship neard its destination, the refinery on Sullust. Breaking down a smuggling ring was the mission statement, nothing more, nothing less, but Picard knew that wasn’t reliable, it was only the mission statement he’d been given.

During the three cycles leading up to this mission, Picard gotten quite the feel for how his operations were going to go in the Empire. Days of constant monitoring, near solitary confinement in his room, and three meetings a day with Grand General Tagge, he was definitely a prisoner, but a prisoner the Empire wanted information from. They had already sent him on an appearant suicide mission to kill Lord Vader, might as well get some useful information out of him beforehand.

In his spare time he did have the opportunity to study a map that Tagge had let him borrow, equally useless as it was useful. Tagge had given him a map of the entire galaxy, but not one with any strategic information of who owned what area, probably expecting Picard’s attempts at escape. It did however, show the travel speed between areas, and that was what baffled him.

While Starfleet was sent on decades long missions to get across the galaxy, It seemed like as long as you had access to a hyperdrive, any ship in this galaxy could get from one end to the next in about a week! Any place in the galaxy accessible in about a week, the possibilities were nearly endless. 

All of these destinations, all of the possibilities for places to go, cultures to discover and learn from, a majority of which were advanced enough to at least pass the Prime Directive, and yet the Empire chose to be xenophobic. Picard knew he had more important things to worry about, but the Empire always gave him a sort of haunting feeling, a look at what could happen if Starfleet lost its way.

This trip to the refinery, however slim, did provide him a chance to get back to the Enterprise. Han had said that he was a part of the Rebel Alliance, perhaps these smugglers would be too, or at least would have to know of some way of contacting them. After all, the smugglers were operating right underneath the Empire’s nose, the chances they would be willing to work with them would be pretty slim...but…

“Is everything okay, Doctor Picard?”” Asked N1, with a genuine amount of concern in his voice that took Picard back abit. 

“Yes, I’m doing fine just … thinking over the prospects of this mission,” Picard said. He realized how tense he was and loosened up, sitting up straight in his chair as he took a breath.

“Oh of course, probably lost in some research thought, right? What was your field of study again, I forgot to ask the other day,” N1 said amicably.

Phasma, for just a moment, turned her attention away from the ship, and looked at Picard.

He knew the odds were high that Phasma knew every detail of Tagge’s plan, two conspirators working to bring down one of the most powerful members of their government should, but that didn’t mean his entire life had been written out. There were still some embellishments that could be made, roles that coudl be assigned, that if Picard used correctly, he knew could help him in the future.

“Well, I got my major in Super Weapons, but I actually took a Minor in Cross Species Anthropology,” Picard said. 

That, not to the surprise of Picard, caught the attention of everyone on the ship.

“Cross Species Anthropology? That’s the one where you go around trying to teach aliens how they can work better for the Empire, right?” Asked N3.

It was just as Picard had thought based on the texts in his room, the Empire must have ruled all of academia as well, the chances of someone researching other cultures earnestly while living in the Empire was slim to none. He would need to see more texts to validate his theory, but it seemed that it was all pseudo science, half truths and fictions made to boost the glory and morale of the Empire.

“That’s how many of the field go about it, diminishing others to put ourselves ahead. Entertain me for a moment, but don’t you think if those groups have been able to survive for millenia, they too may have something to offer?” N2 tilted her head at him, while N1 gave him a shrug, Phasma and N3 didn’t seem to show him any response.

“Well I mean, It’s not impossible,” N1 said, “Back home on Felucia when my folks were gone, the natives would teach me about how some of their old farming techniques. Lotta ways to fend off a jungle rancor from stampeding through your crops, I’ll take the defensive planting techniques over chasing at them with a blaster anyday.” 

“What, family too stupid to learn how to set up turrets?” N3 asked, his attention never turning away from his co-pilot duties.

“Nope, just poor,” N1 said bitterly, tightening his grip on his knee as he looked at N3.

N3 made a scoff and said nothing else, but Picard noticed that N1’s anger had subsided just as quickly. They may have little chemistry to speak of, but they definitely had the determination to get the mission finished.

“We’re approaching Sullust now, dropping out of hyperdrive,” Major Phasma said, as she pulled back a lever above her head. The white streaks of stars around them came to a halt, turned to stationary speckles as the ship appeared in the orbit of Sullust.

The planet was a massive obsidian orb, speckled with red dots of olympic sized volcanoes. The surface of the planet was barely visible through its atmosphere, a tar black smog that spread its tendrils over the planet. 

As the ship headed down to land on the planet's surface, they were in complete darkness through the smog, the ships descent turned to a crawl as Phasma looked to N3. “Call in to the comm tower. The SoroSuub Corporation will be elated to hear that we’ve made it,” Phasma said sarcastically. 

“This is Phasma Squad coming in, Do you copy?” N3 asked, trying to sound as neutral as possible, but only achieving veiled aggression, like a dagger wrapped in cloth. 

“This is Raalè Borz of the SoroSuub Corporation,” the man on the other end replied chipperly, “I’ll be the one to guide you down today. You currently need to pull your ship back by 1 notch, and then slow your descent to its lowest speed, you should reach an open space in the landing pad in about twenty seconds. ”

Phasma did as was directed, carefully double checking every move and measurement along with N3, and they were on the landing pad in more or less the same time that Raalè had said they would be.

“Thank you for your visit to the refinery, a representative will be out to greet you shortly, please remember to give me a five telsins out of five in your review,” Raalè said.

As the ship’s landing ramp deployed, a blue hologram appeared from a projector in the dash of each pilot’s side of the ship. The hologram showed five floating outlines of geodes, which Picard took to be the telsins they were talking about.

Phasma pressed a button on her dashboard, and five out of five telsins filled up, while on N3’s side, only three filled up. Phasma kept her hand on the dashboard, both of their scores still floating in front of them, as she stared at N3.

“What?” N3 said tiredly, “He was off by three seconds, can’t let them think they’re perfect when they aren’t.”

Phasma kept her score on five and submitted it, the hologram faded away. N3 did not change his, and submitted his at the same time Phasma submitted hers.

“Alright let's go,” Phasma said as she stood up, “remember to turn your filters on, the air is dangerous out here. More than an hour out there and you’ll get a black lung.”

Phasma and the other troops pressed a small button on the side of their helmets, and quiet sliding sound was made as the filters slid into place on their masks. 

They all also took a moment to double check their equipment. Phasma had her heavy blaster rifle slung over her back, N1 had a standard blaster pistol and medical bags attached to his waist and back, N2 had a sniper rifle on her as well as a small shiv, and N3 had a minigun that was nearly as large as he was. 

Picard, not having armor of any type looked around the ship. In the corner there was a grey hazmat suit hanging from the ceiling. It looked extremely durable, with reinforced plated areas for the joints, and the head of the suit seeming to be made of the same material as Phasma’s helmet, he suspected it could handle a few blasts. No one had bothered to tell him about it, but he felt safe to presume that it was his.

When he walked up to the suit it was already unzipped so he walked into it, and as he clenched his fist the suit zipped itself up.

“Remember Doctor,” Phasma said, “Three quick squeezes to unzip it.”

“Why of course, Major,” Picard said, “It’s not as if this is my first time doing field work.” He was glad the only part of his face that was visible was through a small slit in his eyes, he got to smirk as much as he wanted at his warden.

When they walked onto the surface of Sullust, it was like walking into a wind turbine. The harsh black smog in the air blew past them fast enough that each step was a fight against either going diagonally or getting bowled over. 

A blue light approached them, and N3 reached for his gun.

“At ease,” Phasma said, “It’s representative.”

With a groan, N3 lowered his gun, and when the light was nearly helmet to helmet with Phasma, they could see that it was in fact the representative.

The representative was wearing armor similar to the Empire soldiers, yet grey and blue, with their company logo of the galactic common letters for SSC branded on their chests and helmet.

“It is always a pleasure to see you uniformed personnel of the ever so esteemed Galactic Empire. Major Phasma, Doctor Picard, and…” they held their arm limply in the air as they did a brushing motion at everyone behind Picard and Phasma, “the rest of your team.”

“My name is Andalos Voss, Senior Vice Chairman of the Executive Branch of Associate Development, I’ll be happy to assist you with your investigation in anyway you see fit,” They said as they crispily put their hands together, and looked intently at Picard and Phasma.

The rating system, the asinine titles, Picard remembered hearing about something similar to this in his history classes; late stage capitalism. The least enjoyable setting on the holodeck.

“The smuggling ring, what’s the last you’ve heard of it?” Asked Phasma.

“Oh well I would be elated to tell you about that once we got inside, follow me please,” Andalos said. As he turned around, he nearly became invisible through the blowing black winds, only visible from the light of his helmet pointing in the direction he went.

“Attach the cables and stick close,” Phasma said. Picard could hardly even see it, but he heard the thwip of everyone around him pulling out cables of rope, and then the clicking of them attaching to something metallic.

Picard felt a hand gently pat him on his shoulder. “I’ll guide you through Doctor,” N1 said.

It was a haze of walk, just one step after the other as Picard walked with the rest of the team. He found a light on his helmet, but it was pointless in a zero visibility situation like this. The only reason that Andalos could probably even get to them and back was probably because of rote memorization.

He heard the loud grinding of a sliding metal door door, and before Picard knew it, he, Andalos, and the Rest of Phasma Squad were standing inside of a fluorescently lit room. The walls were made of painted white steel, and had three rows of wide tubes reaching from one end of the room to the other on the walls and ceilings. At the end of the room was a blue door with a large electromagnetic lock on it, next to the door rectangular red button with a blank screen above it.

“Decontamination,” Andalos said as he walked to the end of the room, “Can't risk any of those nasty chemicals from the outside getting into the offices. Please make sure to keep your hands open.” Andalos pressed the rectangular button, and a cloud of decontaminating mist quickly filled the room.

Through the mist the screen above the button turned to a dull red, but after a few moments of the entire room being shrouded in the mist, turned green. “Decontamination Complete. Please enjoy your time with SoroSuub Corporation,”A computerized voice said as the mist dissipated, and the door unlocked with a heavy thunk. 

After the squad members undid their belt links, Andalos guided them into the next room. Picard would’ve never guessed they had passed by a tower while they were landing, but lo and behold here they were, staring dozens of stories into the air, at the hundreds of offices and rooms of the SoroSuub Corporation. They could hear snippets of dozens of conversations happening as people hustled and bustled pass them, their hands to their ears as they spoke through comm links. Protocol droids painted in the company colors of gold and blue were following nearly every employee, spouting off trading calculations. 

N1 made a low whistle. “Guess I’m not on Dantooine anymore…” The trooper was entranced by the sights, his sight gazing around the building.

Picard looked at something that seemed to be rather unusual for the area, a singular alien, a humanoid bird covered head to toe in white feathers. They were sullenly sweeping the floor with a dust pan at the ready, although the floor already looked pristine.

N2 nudged Picard, a chipper tone to her voice as she pointed at the alien and asked, “So tell me Doc, did you study the trash or the trash while you were at school?” 

Picard gave N2 a look of such vitriol, such seething hatred for every word that had just come out of her mouth, that she took a step back and glanced at the floor before setting her sights back to Picard. “S-sorry Doctor, it was a joke,” she stumbled out.

“Who taught you that that was a joke? That it was an appropriate thing to say about anybody?” Picard asked. He knew the answer of course, but his disgust at the situation had gotten the better of him, he had spent too much time reading the texts that the Empire had left in his bedroom to be oblivious to why she said it. Her actions were a repetition of what life in the Empire had taught her. Which only made it more surprising when he noticed that although Phasma and N3 were ignoring the conversation, N1 gave a small nod of agreement to Picard’s questions. 

N2 didn’t respond, only looking around nervously for a moment before her attention turned to the sound of screaming.

“Help! I know I can do better, I just need more time! Somebody help me please!” A man shouted as he was dragged out of an elevator by two armed guards, futility thrashing in their grip as he was carried to another elevator on the opposite side of the building. His lanky limbs seemed to be making a very direct effort to not kick the guards, stopping short of them with each kick, the steel rods and blaster pistols on their hips surely helping in informing his decision.

“Sorry you have to see this,” Andalos said, “But it’s important that we keep our customer satisfaction rate as sky-high as our reputation precedes.” He then took his helmet off, and for a man who was sorry, he seemed anything but. 

Flowing chestnut brown hair cleanly parted on the side, shining white teeth in perfect alignment as he blankly smiled at them, and richly brown eyes that had the same glimmer as a fox in a chicken coop. Andalos was first and foremost, a businessman.

As the man continued screaming for help, Picard had a realization. “That man,” Picard said as he pointed to him, “Is that Raalè?”

Andalos blinked at the question, happily smiling at Picard, “I’m sorry, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“He was the one who helped us with our landing. If it wasn’t for him I’m not quite sure where we would have landed, probably in the side of this building,” Picard said.

“Oh yes, of course, Raalè!” Andalos said in his best attempt to sound as if he had just remembered the name. “Yes well you see after a string of bad reviews, he’s getting a demotion back to his former station, I’m sure you understand.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Picard said flatly, and Andalos’s contrived smile remained unflinching.

Phasma turned her attention to Picard. “I’m sure you wouldn’t, Doctor. Academia doesn’t exactly breed that sort of behavior,” she said dryly.

Andalos made a practiced laugh, ending as quickly as it began. “Oh, there’s that famed Galactic Empire humor! Come, I’ll show you the graphs of how the rebel terrorists have been affecting our bottom line in my office.”

Phasma was already following behind Andalos before Picard could say another word. 

As Picard watched the elevator doors close on the man, he felt a hollowing open in his heart. Was this his fate as he was held hostage under the Empire, to watch powerlessly as people’s natural rights were destroyed, to smile and laugh at crimes against humanity? 

It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice but to hope he found a way to leave the Empire’s grasp sooner or later. It wasn’t like he was given much information to know of Vader to begin with and based on what he saw, no reason to believe they would be better without him. No matter how much potential they had to do good in the galaxy, the Empire as they stood were still a band of fascist doing as they pleased, killing one man wouldn’t change that.

The group went into the opposite elevator and on their way to Andalos’s office, their conversation minimal along the way. A conversation was something that required both parties speaking, and Andalos practiced monologue about their quarterly sales performances and how it was all thanks to the glory of the Empire helping them expand onto Sullust five years ago, was not or was ever intended to be a back and forth conversation.

As they entered into Andalos’s office, Andalos clapped his hands and the lights turned on. The room was nothing if not a statement; A Wooden Desk stained blue and yellow with “SSC” imprinted on the front, an entire wall framed with employee of the month portraits (half of which were himself), and small potted tropical plants and trees in each corner of the room.

Andalos sat down in his cushioned leather chair and wheeled his chair merrily into position. “Ah, always best to handle serious business in a comfortable location. Please feel free to take a seat,” he said as he pushed a button underneath his desk and four panels in the floor slid open, leather chairs emerging out of each of them.”

Picard and Phasma were the most hesitant of their group to sit down, but after a look at each other and the rest of their squadmates, settled on it probably being a safe idea.

“Here at the SoroSuub Corporation we operate by taking the resources deep within this planet, and extracting them to the surface, where they’re then taken to shipping bays across the planet. It’s a very easy, and very quick way of getting the business done,” Andalos was in full presentation mode, speaking as if he was talking to a room full of potential buyers.

“Does the armor have something to do with the ease of this job?” Picard asked.

“Ah yes the armor, that’s bought from our always trusted customer and trading partner, the Galactic Empire. It helps for when the staff gets a little unruly, but that’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, we do a fantastic job protecting ourselves,” Andalos said, tapping his finger to his armor for emphasis. 

Picard sighed before he said, “That wasn’t necessarily what I was asking, but thank you.”

“What we’re trying to get to,” Phasma said, “Is why you wear the armor indoors. That’s a lot of protection to have for just a disgruntled employee. This underground system the mining is taking place in, do the rebels have access to it?”

“Well…” Andalos said as he ran his hand through his hair, spinning his chair as if hoping he would turn an answer around.

“Keep in mind,” Phasma said, “That lying to an Imperial soldier is a capital punishment.” Phasma then did an exaggerated stretch

“Oh I assure you!” Andalos blurted out as he stuck his hands up in front of himself, “I would never lie to a member of the Imperial --”

“I’ve already tortured this man for his interview process,” Phasma said as she motioned her head to Picard, “Do you think I wouldn’t kill a Vice Chair Junior Fool to save the Empire’s resources?”

“The tunnels! Of course, it was the tunnels!” Andalos said as he slapped his palms to his forehead. “Sometimes you know, you just get so lost in the business of work that you overlook the grand plan of it all. The rebels have been smuggling inside of our tunnels, they do go very long, lots of nooks, crannies, labyrinths and the sorts. A few of our vehicles have gone missing, a few lost patrols, we have reason to believe that there’s a rebel cell down there.”

“I’m glad to see you found your memories,” Phasma said calmly as she folded one leg over the other. “Have there been any … anomalies in the area? Movements of the earth, haziness of the mind, that sort of thing?” 

Haziness of the mind? Picard had an inkling that she may be speaking about something similar to what Vader had done to him previously. Surely if the story was from millenia ago, someone with those capabilities wouldn’t be walking around today, but he was still knew to the galaxy, perhaps such powers also granted the ability to extend one's life to such a length as well. No one had bothered to debrief him on Vader’s capabilities, if they even knew them to begin with.

“Well uh, yes, we have had some of that,” Andalos said warily, “But I’m almost certain those were just reprecussions of working so deep underneath the planet. Fumes and earthquakes and whatnot...” 

As Andalos trailed off, a silence settled into the room. It hung in the air like a corpse, broken only by Phasma’s tapping on her plate armor, slowly, patiently, as she kept her eyes locked on Andalos. 

The corporate representative felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead as he stared at the deathtrooper’s helmet. He did not need to see her eyes to know she was already planning his death.

“But, I’ll put them on your map, along with the missing patrols. We’ve kept a very good record of our incidents.” Andalos reached into his desk and pulled out a datapad, handing it to Phasma with a shaky grasp.

Phasma observed it for a second, and then held it to the side of her helmet.

“Uh do you need a --” Andalos tried to say.

“Data transferral complete. Sorry you wouldn’t know about this feature, it isn’t exactly civilian tech.” Phasma handed the datapad to Picard. “You’ll need this, Mr. Andalos, thank you for your time.”

Phasma stood up from her chair, and the rest of her group did so as well immediately. Picard rose up after them, and saw that Andalos hadn’t stopped shaking, sweat now pouring out of his face as he attempted to recline in his seat with an air of placidity.

“I wish you nothing but the best of luck on your mission! Please remember that your reviews do matter!” Andalos’s voice cracked as he spoke, and the door to the room shut closed, Phasma and her squad already gone before he had even finished.

“Thank you for working with SoroSuub corporation, how can I--” The protocol droid nearly fell to the floor as Phasma shoved it out of her way.

“We don’t have time for your nonsense. Infantry, I’m sending you the schematics of the known tunnel system and incident reports as we speak. N1, I want you to check for the frequency of anomalies and how close they occur to their mining sites. N2, pull up where the patrol groups and vehichles have gone missing from. N3 once those two have completed their objectives you compare those data sets against one another, and that will lead us to at least one of our objectives.”

“And myself?” Picard asked.

“Review the species on this waste of a planet. I’m sure your datapad has some info on them somewhere,” Phasma said.

Picard detected a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but he would need to know at least some information before they went down there, regardless of how biased it may be.

As they rode in the elevator that would take them down to the tunnels, the same one they had seen Raale get taken down on, each of them were going over their roles. The stormtroopers had their datapads out, and while N1 and N2 diligently looked over their notes, N3 took it with more of an ambivalent scroll. Phasma was silent with her back against the wall, the lenses on her helmet flickering as images played out in front of her. Picard held onto the inside railing of the elevator as he scrolled through the datapad with his thumb, his grip tightening as it came to an abrupt stop.

“We haven’t hit the bottom yet…” N2 said as she looked at the marking above the door. Judging by the options of “Surface” and “Mines” that they presented, they were in fact at neither.

“Probably just a service hiccup, who knows crappily they built some of this junk,” N3 said as he slapped his hand on the wall.

Picard made a sigh as he scrolled through an article on Ash Angels, was he actually going to have a near death experience in an elevator twice in one week?

The lights in elevator died off and before anyone could say a thing, were replaced with a dim redlight.

“Emergency lighting, it’s time to get the hell out of here,” Phasma said, and just as quickly reached up to the elevator and ripped out one of the lights in the ceiling, revealing the hatch exit above it. 

“This is Nien Nunb, leader of the Rebels of Sullust!” the voice boomed through the elevator’s speakers, sounding as if whoever was speaking was screaming into the mic. 

“Everyone get the hell out and start climbing, now!” Phasma said as she ripped the elevator hatch open.

“Word has passed that some Imperial Killmongerers are right here in this very elevator. There’s no need to worry though everyone, as leader of this group, and soon to be leader of this planet, lets just show them how the Rebels of Sullust operate!” Nien said.

Phasma crouched down, placing her hands together in position to help lift her team members up. N2 was the first to go, using Phasma’s boost and grabbing onto an opening to pull herself up, just in time to see the elevator’s counterweights unlock as if they had been electronically shut off.

The elevator was sent hurling, a horrific screech filling the entire shaft as they were sent towards the mines of Sullust. This, Picard thought as they fell, was not the way he had planned on meeting the Rebels, and he could only hope it wasn’t how he would meet his death. He took a hop into the air to try and avoid taking the full force of the crash, and the last thing he heard was the sickening rend of steel crashing into steel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [And we back and we back and we back and we UH. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Hi3nbs3bD4) Sorry for the longer than expected delay everyone, but Thanksgiving break hits, and then time falls into an ever escaping illusion of which you can't keep up. You know how it is. Thankfully though I got to eat a lot of great food, and will continue to eat great food, as this next mass food eating holiday arrives. 
> 
> I actually had half of this chapter finished before going on break, but then starting it back up was way more trouble than I had been bargaining for after going cold turkey on writing over the break, which is the same for all of my hobbies I enjoy doing ... should probably not just cold turkey drop things I enjoy doing because I'm on break? That doesn't make a whole lot of sense now that I've typed it out.
> 
> But batteries are quite definitely recharged, looking forward to the new year, sooner celebrations, and all that jazz. Glad to be back and glad to have all the readers who have made it this far!
> 
> Best regards,
> 
> -Faris
> 
> P.S. Hope the new Star Wars is good/ that I can see it before this weekend is over. I would've had a chance to see it tonight, but I was busy listening to people get real heated about Wine Caves.


	12. A Rising in the Tunnels, A Torrent from the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Hold back the edges of your gowns, Ladies, we are going through hell." - Williams Carlos Williams_
> 
> Vader has a vision of the past and makes his first move. Meanwhile, Phasma squad is split apart after an ambush from an alliance between the Rebels and the Miners.

Lord Vader sat in his meditation chamber, the only carry over he allowed between ships. The crew was irrelevant, the amenities on board were of minimal concern to him, the meditation chamber was all he needed on any ship he was in. For with meditation, he was if only for a brief moment, free.

Anakin was standing in front of his house, leaning against the door frame of their hut while eating a ripened kasha fruit that he had stolen from Watto earlier. The slaver had stolen both he and his mother's life, he was owed this little at least.

As he bit into the fruit, he was watching his first creation, C-3PO, try and do its job. He had hoped that when he built the droid it would help him to communicate with all of the other alien slaves that kept being traded in and out. Unfortunately, the droid seemed much more focused on cementing formalities than revolutions. It was even irritated when he started calling the droid, “Threepio”, saying that it was hardly appropriate name, but said, “If my master insists, it’s a title I will accomodate.”

He hated to say it, but Threepio was crucial to his plans. It was one thing to learn another language, but a whole different thing to learn a language, establish relationships, and form a rebellion before the other slaves were traded off to some other system, never to be seen again. With Threepio helping him, he at least got through the language barrier quicker.

Watto used to keep slaves for longer, but that was a mistake he’d made only once in Anakin’s life, before the young man had a dozen languages under his belt, before the scar covered his eye.

The dresselians and Threepo were talking next to Anakin’s podracer, their youngest child mesmerized by it as she ran her hand across its chassis. Anakin remembered when he used to look at his podracer, Watto had actually encouraged him to get in one of the races telling him he could win his freedom, key word “could.” Watto ended up pocketing the money, bought more slaves, bought more security, bought a bigger shop, and the rest is a history that repeated itself time and time again each time Watto threatened to sell off Anakin’s mother to the lowest bidder.

As Anakin watched his droid talk to a family of Dresselians, tiredly nodding their hairless and wrinkled heads to the droid’s rambling, he saw two figures appear seemingly out of the whipping sands on the horizon. His brow furrowed as he watched them and chewed on his fruit, there weren’t supposed to be anymore slaves coming in today, so they were probably buyers.

The two approached Anakin in complete silence, and stood before him, blocking off his view from Threepio and the dresselians. 

One was an older man, probably in his forties, had a greying mustache and goatee, and shoulder length brown hair. The other looked to be only a little bit older than Anakin was, he was probably somewhere in his early or mid twenties, and was sporting what Anakin thought was the dumbest ponytail in the world.

“So, you’re the one,” The older man said with a kind smile, his crows feet crinkling as he looked at Anakin.

“Master Qui-Gon,” The younger man said incredulously before Anakin even had a chance to react, pointing his hand at Anakin as he spoke, “ he can’t be the one, he’s far too old!”.

“I’m younger than you are, ponytail.” Anakin bit into his fruit, his expression as calm as ever as he looked at the two. Despite how plain his expression was, he did find it strange that he was calling that other man master, was he a slave too? 

“Apologies for my padawan, his name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and mine is Qui-Gon Jin.” He held out a hand to Anakin. “I’m to presume that you’re Anakin Skywalker?”

It was so obvious now. The weird clothes, the confrontational attitude, they were overseers hired by Watto!

“Who told you that?” Anakin asked as he slowed down his chewing, preparing to spit his fruit in their face and run the second the opportunity presented itself.

“Why, the Force of course,” Qui-Gon said as he pulled back his robe and revealed a lightsaber. “The same energy that will guide you to freedom, Skywalker.”

Anakin’s chewing stopped.

A sharp buzz shocked Vader out of his concentration, and he found himself staring into the white void of his meditation chamber. With a beleaguered sigh, he had the machines within the chamber lower his helmet down, attaching itself to his skull once again.

When the meditation chamber opened, a blue hologram of the Emperor’s head was waiting for Vader, a lifeless glaze over his eyes.

“Lord Vader,” The Emperor groaned, “enjoying your nap? There is much work to be done.”

“Of course, my master. What is your bidding?” Vader asked, not moving an inch from his meditation chamber. 

“I have heard your strike on Takadonna was successful, and you were even able to get your revenge by destroying the Millenium Falcon …. But did you kill its crew.” The Emperor had no need to ask the question, he already knew the answer.

“Very intriguing that you went all the way to Takadonna to raid a pirate’s headquarters, just to kill some minor scoundrel, and failed to even enact the, “revenge” you were looking for …. But the reason for your priorities will come to light soon, surely.”The Emperor made a wicked smile, his sharp and cracked teeth glowed with blue light as he watched the kneeling Vader.

Vader could feel the anger and shame within him twisting, rising to the surface. With one unpredicted factor; that cursed starship and the force sensitive woman, he had failed himself, and by proxy of being his apprentice, the Emperor himself.

He only hoped that the Emperor was unaware as to why he was trying to kill Han Solo in the first place, to stop him from possibly discovering his identity and spreading it through the galaxy, but his senses told him that was unlikely. For Vader’s failures, there would be repercussions. 

For every mistake he made, the Emperor placed another plan in motion of finding someone more effective to do the job, and the only way he would be leaving his current position would be with headless shoulders. 

There was never any rewards for excellency, instead, Vader had found comfort in the cyclical destruction of those who had come to kill him. At least when he secured his position, he could feel powerful again. With each failed plan to eliminate him, he felt the day when he would be a worthy leader the empire was inching closer and closer, but it would be long before he could be a worthy replacement to the Emperor.

“I find the destruction of all Rebel elements as imperative, master. Some must be extinguished quicker than others, as a way to destroy their moral,” Vader said flatly.

“And what of Skywalker?” The Emperor asked with mock curiosity, “The one who destroyed the Death Star must have a place of some importance in this grand scheme of yours.”

Vader nodded his head slowly at the Emperor. “His head will be delivered to you soon, along with the princess and the scoundrel’s.”

“Excellent,” The Emperor said, then let out a low and wicked laugh, then the hologram transmission ended just as abruptly as it had begun.

Vader sat in his meditation chamber for a moment, picking through the options in his head, before he relented to the fact that he may have to do his least favorite option of all.

“You,” he said to a mouse droid going through his room, “set up transmissions to the bounty hunter, Bobba Fett.”

  


* * *

Picard heard a grinding scream of metal and man. He tried to rise but was strapped to the ground by cables, writhing in a mass of discarded metal. From the endless darkness of the sky a great bronze mask fell towards him, and with one last breath, he screamed.

Picard snapped out of his sleep to realize he was screaming in some sort of cave. No, a tunnel? He was piecing together the past when he tried to stand up, and found himself bound to someone else, their arms wrapped tightly to their torso by a cable, as they sat back to back with one another.

“Hab Picard, yosh kin ai…” The voice said tiredly, their breathing haggard. It sounded like Phasma, but what in the world was she saying?

Phasma wasn’t wearing her armor or even her helmet, Picard only felt the black spandex of her bodysuit pressed against the back of his neck. She wasn’t struggling against the restraints, and she breathed like an injured animal.

“Ah, the scientist wakes up from their bad dream,” The alien said as they pointed their blaster pistol at Picard, holding his Starfleet pin in his other hand. “Now this is a pretty strange pin, Clone Wars era?” He asked as he held the pin to the light from the bulbs above him.

“No, Starfleet,” Picard croaked out. His throat felt so dry that it hurt to talk, and as he looked down, he realized blood stained the front of his shirt.

Now he remembered, the elevator crash. He must of passed out since then, and these were likely the Rebels they were looking for.

“Ah, a joke of a response. I guess that’s appropriate though, I haven’t even introduced myself yet,” The bulbous eyed alien said. The alien holstered his gun on his hip, and scratched at his flapping jowls as he spoke, “I am Nien Nunb, leader of the Sullust Resistance, working in conjunction with the Cobalt Laborers’ Reformation Front, but I’m sure your intel already told you that.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but intel is something that eludes me from time to time,” Picard said with a smile.

“Qwozz kuhan, na sa?!” A frantic squawking was happening behind him, Picard looked over his shoulder and saw a large black rooster-esque alien in front of Picard with their blaster rifle drawn. Picard hadn’t seen a bird brood like that since his childhood, it’s plumage nearly making the creature into double its size.

“Tabbid, what do you mean you can’t understand him? He’s speaking plain as day,” Nien said as he gestured towards Picard, holding the Starfleet pin between his thumb.

“That pin your holding, it’s a translator, I need it to speak and to understand what is being spoken to me. It’s because --” 

Nien cut him off, waving away the explanation as he put the pin back on Picard, “I get it, you have a split in intelligence. All your brain went to drawing up blueprints and none to speech, I have a cousin like that, I get it.” 

Picard had hoped he would be able to have a discussion with just Nien, maybe learn more about the Rebel Alliance before Phasma could hear him, but those plans were dashed as the pin was put back onto his shirt.

“Why are you even bothering with them!?” The bird alien shouted as he took a step closer, nearly planting the barrel of his blaster on Phasma’s forehead. “They’re the enemy and we need to evacuate! The building has already been seized, more than half of the refineries on this planet have been taken over, it’s time to blow these up, find my child, and jump planet!”

“If you decide to destroy those refineries, you’ll be signing your death warrants.” Picard didn’t even need to turn around to know that Phasma was speaking right past the blaster, and probably already sizing Tabbid up.

“Well I’m sorry, but I seemed to have missed a few developments while I was gone. Blowing up the refineries, why would you want something like that?” PIcard asked as he took a glance to Nien and Tabbid. He realized now why the bird alien seemed so distinctive, she was a dustdove, one of the aliens he was looking at on his codex before the elevator fell.

An evolutionary split from the ash angels the planet was known for, the dustdoves were far more intelligent, possessing intelligence almost equal to humans (which judging by the author’s point of view on the subject, Picard felt safe in assuming they were at least equal). They were known for their feather pattern, with the upper half always being a dark brown or light grey, while their lower half was always a near blinding white. The only other trait that was mentioned was how flighty they seemed to be, swinging from one strong emotion to the next.

“Same reason your intel was crap.” Nien walked over to Tabbid and lowered his blaster, nodding at him as he spoke. “The SoroSuub Corporation made it so. All of the reports they sent to the Empire, were puffed up numbers to make themselves look better, same reason they hid a rebellion brewing right underneath their noses until the last second. Lose an Empire contract, your as good as dead for business. Guess they should’ve asked for help first sign of trouble, and things may have gone better, huh?” Nien let out a hearty laugh, but no one else even cracked a smile.

“Oh so what, the Rebel Alliance doesn’t have any need for the strategic resources this planet offers? No need for the precious metals that can win a war, you’re just going to blow up all of the refineries because SoroSuub is a bad company?” Phasma asked.

“They’ll get their metals and then some, so don’t worry your formerly chrome domed little head about it. Those refineries don’t belong on this planet, back when I grew up here as a kid, those were religious centers. We’re gonna blow ‘em up and put back what’s meant to be there, for the people of Sullust,” Nien said.

“Anyways,” Nien said, “you should thank your friend here, she offered you up as hostages.”

“Hostages?” Picard said exasperatedly, being the hostage to his hostage taker’s hostage taker was not how he envisioned his first few days in a new galaxy going.

“He offered either us or the rest of our squad freedom, the ones who didn’t take it will be tortured for information and taken hostage,” Phasma said calmly. “Our squad doesn’t deserve to suffer for … my mistakes.” She struggled with the word “my.” Picard guessed that this was an unfamiliar situation for her.

“And what a wise choice that was! You’re the most valuable of your group anyway, Major Phasma,” Nien said as he walked to the opposite end of the room of Picard.

Picard had to crane his neck as hard as possible, barely able to see past Tabbid, as Nien kicked over Phasma’s armor that was laying in a corner of the room. Nien fished out a rope of cable from Phasma’s utility built, and came back over to the two. 

“Now the fun part, I attach this to you two, we head over to my new ship, courtesy of the SoroSuub corporation, and we meet up with the Rebel Alliance. I’m certain that Princess Organa and Mon Mothma will be delighted to see such ‘esteemed’ members of the Empire. Maybe you can help fix us up some weapons, eh scientist?” Nien didn’t gloat as he spoke to them, instead he was earnestly trying to sell it to his two prisoners as if they were actually going on a fantastic trip.

Phasma’s silence did not reassure Picard to that possibility.

* * *

Davis opened his eyes to complete darkness, the light in the elevator must of died when it fell. His leg felt warm, a warm dripping feeling, definitely blood. He didn’t feel anything fractured, so it must of been of cut, he hoped.

He had bandages and medpatch with him, hopefully he wouldn’t need to use any of the medpatch this early into a mission. Whatever in the world this mission had just turned into, it was only a teeny setback, just like when a rancor would eat one of the cattle back home. He just needed to find a way to get back in the saddle.

The elevator was silent, hopefully everyone else was alive, but he knew better than to make any assumptions.

Davis stood up, and was thankful that he didn’t feel any pain that was too awful in his leg, a bandage would probably do just fine. He didn’t want to turn on his helmets headlight just yet, because although the elevator itself was silent, he could hear the sound of blasterfire outside of it. 

He undid his leg’s armor and felt a sharp pain in his thigh region when he peeled the armor off. He ran his finger up the dribbling trail of blood and found that his armor had cut against his thigh during the fall, he must’ve fallen forward on it. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a bandage, then wrapped it around the cut and ripped it off. When he put his leg armor back on he moved it slightly closer to to the wound and fastened it as tight as possible, hopefully all the pressure would make it less of a pain for the rest of the mission.

He could not, however, spend the rest of the mission waiting in the dark in an elevator. He accidentally stepped on one of his teammates armor as he felt around for the elevator buttons, a solid reference point to figure out where he was in the elevator, and whispered, “Sorry! Is anyone else awake?” 

He heard a groan in response, it was either N2 or Phasma, but he couldn’t really tell which one it was, but he was glad they were alive at least.

Once he found the elevator buttons, he glided his hand over to the door, and began trying to pry it apart. He moved it about an inch, the dim orange glow of the tunnel system coming into the elevator, when suddenly two pairs of talons were on each side of the door, helping him open it.

Davis heard the panicked screams echoing throughout the tunnels, shots of blasters, and even a woman screaming about where her children were. Something extreme must’ve taken place while he was unconscious, and being the only member of his team even awake right now, he now knew that it, in a very terrifying sense, fell upon him to keep all of them as safe as possible.

Before the door was even open, he put both his hands straight into the air, his voice cracking as he spoke, “If it’s the enemy out there, I surrender! We have injured personnel who need help here immediately!”

The doors opened with a groaning screech, revealing a short alien with flaps of jowls holding a blaster pistol to Davis and his team, and a flock of armed dustdoves behind him. 

There were around a dozen of the dustdoves standing in front of the elevator, all wearing workers clothes, their white feathers coated in the brown dust of the mines. Some of them had pickaxes, some of them had mining lasers, but only one of the dustdoves had armor and a blaster rifle, it was an E-11, Empire standard issue.

“Wow, you all did it before I could even make my speech,” Nien said mournfully, “let’s get you out of here.”

“You there! ”The armed dustdove stepped forward, shoving their blaster into the elevator, waving their gun at everyone on the floor. “Hands off the blaster!”

The dustdove was wearing some sort of strange stone armor; It looked almost like chainmail, yet it moved as if it was alive, a festering collection of stone snakes protecting his body going from his toes to his head, ending with a large coif. Everyone else around them was just wearing plain clothes, so Davis felt safe in assuming they were the leader.

As Davis took a closer look at the armor, he realized that the dustdove seemed to be wearing nothing underneath it. He wasn’t sure if it was a limitation or practicality choice, as he noticed their communicator had been strapped onto the side of the shoulder stock.

“Fucking damnit, N1.” That mutter was unmistakable, it was N3. He was alive and well enough to be mad at Davis, and he wasn’t quite sure yet how much of a positive that was.

N3 slowly released his grip on the blaster laying on the ground and stood up. He had gotten off easy, he didn’t even make a grunt of pain as he looked at his captors.

“That’s two of you alive. Anyone else who is alive and awake declare so now. I’ll be forced to open fire if I see anyone moving,” The dusttove said as he scanned the elevator floor.

“H…. Harlessa, is t-that you?” N2 spoke with with a slur, and Davis stepped in front of the blaster that was being pointed towards her.

He could see it now that the light was in the elevator, blood coated the entire floor. N2’s helmet was shattered in half, her fiery red mohawk poking out of the back of it. Doctor Picard and Captain Phasma were unresponsive, he could see blood leaking out from underneath her armor, and Picard had a fist-sized knot forming on his head.

Davis took a breath before he spoke, taking a moment to make sure he would say everything correctly before it came out. “I surrender, we all do. If you’ll let us step out of the elevator and let me treat the wounded, we’ll happily surrender our weapons to you.” 

N3’s attention snapped to Davis so quick that he nearly broke his neck in shock, speaking with his teeth clenched tight, “All. of. Our. weapons?”

“Yes,” Nien said, “I do believe that would be advantageous for all of us, but what would truly be advantageous to us poor Rebels would be your armor too, don’t you think?”

“How about you just cut to the point where you shoot all of us in the head and call it a heroic battle? I’m not going to waste my time being held at gunpoint by some rebel alien scum!” N3 barely turned his attention to the rebels as he spoke, instead opting to clink helmets with Davis as he spoke.

Davis was now, above all things, certain that N3 being awake would not be helpful. 

Davis took off his helmet, threw it on the ground in front of his captors, and then turned his back to them as he went to pick up N2. He grabbed the collar of her armor, and then held his arms to support her neck and head as one, then looked behind him to make sure he could exit the elevator without tripping.

While Davis was stepping backwards with N2, N3 ran past him.

The first thing Davis saw when he looked up was the armored dusttove whipping N3 with his rifle, knocking him into a confused daze. Davis realized he could’ve dropped what he was doing and helped him, but that would’ve ended with them all dead, better to just risk the one.

The mission came first, and with no leads, he wasn’t about to get all of them killed because the person least aware of their situation decided to get into a fight.

It didn’t end up being much of a fight regardless. When the dustdove went for their second strike, N3 only flimsily flailed his arms up to block it, instead getting hit in the head for a second time and dropping to the floor like an ioned droid. 

Davis and the dustdove shared a cautious look with one another, Davis slowly inching closer to him with his hands still on his squadmate. Davis was the first to blink, first to speak, “Just passing through.”

“Great choice,” The dust dove as he stepped back to make space for Davis. “My name is Kwozzit. Pacifist, what is your name?”

“I’m a medic not a pacifist. I’d rather miss a beating I don’t need to take.” Davis was already taking out his medpatch from his utility belt, and trying to come up with an answer for Kwozzit’s question.

He could just tell him his real name, or even his original stormtrooper name, but both of those seemed like a bad idea. If these rebels got captured or escaped and spread the word about this interaction, his name may spread, and then questions start arising of what they were doing on this planet before the rebellion was even a threat. Next thing he knows, Vader is doing some weird wizard magic trick and his head pops like a grape because he saw his own guilt in his dreams.

That was a thing Tagge had briefed him on, wasn’t it?

Regardless, no real name when speaking to anyone outside of the mission. “My name, it’s … Enwun”

“You seemed to show some hesitation there, Enwun.” Kwozzit had his gun aimed casually at Davis’s head.

“Oh, it’s just the nerves, makes me uh ... pause sometimes.” The medpatch was coagulating on N2’s head now, seeping into the wound as a cool mist came out of the wound. He felt her breathing start coming back to normal, and took a breath of relief at getting to her in time.

Kwozzit signalled for his team to grab N3 by pointing two fingers at the soldier's unconscious body, and two dustdoves rushed over to grab him. 

The dustdoves tore him out of his armor, revealing his shockingly muscular form in his black spandex bodysuit. Davis felt like they must’ve taken different fitness exams for getting into the academy, N3 looked like he could rip his armor in half with his bare hands if he felt like it, but he guessed that was part of being a heavy gunner. When they ripped off his helmet his hair went all the way down his shoulders, the black tangles and tendrils clinging to the sweat on his bronze colored skin.

One of the dustdoves took out a mining light and held it to N3’s eyes as they peeled his eyelids back. “He’s unconscious, sir. No more playing dead for this one,” the miner squawked.

“Nien,” Kwozzit said as he kept his gun steady on Davis, “those other two seem to be a higher rank. One’s armor is made of chrome and the other isn’t wearing any to begin with. You should take them for the Rebel Alliance. My workers here won’t have any need for them.”

Nien scratched at his jowls, slowly blinking as he looked at the two. “Sounds like a plan my man,” he finally said, taking a loud yawn and putting his gun away before he turned to walk down a forked tunnel, going left. 

Most of the dustdoves looked at each other in confusion, before a pair hopped into the elevator to grab Picard and Phasma. One of them had to call for help, Phasma’s size and armor weighing too much for them to move her. After getting three dustdoves on the job, they were able to collect her armor and tie her together with PIcard, towing them along on the ground like a stubborn animal as they followed behind Nien.

“Alright and that just leaves the rest, come along, Enwun.” Kwozzit relaxed, seeing at how compliant Davis had been so far. HIs rifle now pointing to the ground, he walked down the right side of the forking tunnel, his new prisoners following behind him.

They took the rest of their guns out of the elevator, with one guard flanking each of his sides with 

While N3 was dragged along by some of the dustdoves, Davis had helped up N2 and was supporting her weight as she shambled along beside him. Each step she took she struggled to not trip over herself.

She spoke with a slur, hopefully just a temporary after effect of the blow to the head, “The edge, are we finally going to the edge?” 

“The what? Don’t worry, you’re going to be ok,” Davis said as he kept her walking as straight as possible.

“The edge, when are we going to get to the edge of the galaxy, papa?” She said.

Davis, completely flummoxed, scrunched his face at how insane the statement was. He knew she had taken some head trauma but didn’t expect this type of delusion. “Um, sorry, no… daughter?” His words were trying to find their footing as he spoke them, trying to figure out how best to bring her to reality. “We’re not going to the edge of the galaxy today.”

N2 lunged forward, almost breaking into a sprint but only succeeding in tumbling herself and Davis onto the hard ground of the tunnels. The miner behind them tapped them with N2’s minigun. “Keep it moving, no distractions.” The voice sounded practiced, as if they were enthusiastically reading off a script.

Davis turned his head to see the miner with the minigun, it was a human! Davis wanted to kick himself in the butt for not noticing earlier, but the panic he felt in the moment wasn’t really conducive to analyzing every single person in the area.

“Raalé, it’s you!” The former landing advisor, now rebellious miners, nearly dropped his minigun in shock that somebody had actually remembered him.

“I thought we should have given you five out five, just wanted to put that out there.” Davis was smiling, but Raalé wore a scowl.

“Then maybe you should’ve been the one doing the rating, and I would’ve already left to go home before all of this began. Besides,” Raalé said as he inspected his new weapon, his face shifting to barely contained glee, his teeth gleaming as he smiled down on it, “it seems they accidentally gave me quite the promotion.”

Davis and the rest of the stormtroopers walked in silence as they were hurriedly marched through the tunnels. The barrels of the soldiers’ blasters were pressed to Davis and N3’s backs as they ran as quickly as they could, but it felt more like a show of force to Davis than anything else, this battle was already far over and far lost for the SoroSuub Corporation.

There were dozens of miners and rebels around each dead guard for the corporation, picking their armor and weapons off of them. Davis didn’t like it, but he could understand it; those guards all had Empire weaponry fresh off the line, some of them had even modified or personalized them to their own liking, leaving it would be a waste. Just because the SoroSuub logo and colors had been branded onto the equipment didn’t mean they became less effective.

The miners they were with eyed the armor, but Kwozzit only snapped his fingers at them, making a grinding snap as the stones on his fingers rubbed against one another. The pace picked up, and they left the scavengers to their treasures.

It made Davis feel sick, watching people dressed nearly identical to him dead on the ground, being stripped of all their possessions and left to rot in a tunnel. A fate he probably wasn’t far away from if he had just landed differently in the elevator. 

He needed to take his mind off the subject off his possibly imminent death, and decided that breaking the silence with the guards would help.

“So Mr. Uh, Kwozzit, was it?” Davis asked, and Kwozzit nodded his head in return. “Where did you get that armor you're wearing, it looks almost organic. Is it made out of some Rockrender subspecies or…?” 

The dustdove turned his head completely backward, his head craning sideways in confusion at Davis as he continued walking forward.

“I liked to learn about animals as a kid, when I wasn’t workin’ in the farm I was usually readin’ a book about animals on other planets. Ma told me I was probably going to be a vet but uh, here we are.” Davis felt put off by the fact that Kwozzit never once blinked while he listened to him speak, his amber eyes staring widely at him, but at least he knew he was listening.

“No, this is a set of armor passed down by family for generations. It was said to grant my ancestors luck in battle,” Kwozzit said proudly, then turned his head back around.

N2 was beginning to stir, her walking becoming more normal as she gently took Davis’s arm off of her. “I can walk on my ow--- oh. This mission has gone to shit, hasn’t it?” She said.

Davis looked at all of the armed miners around them and the SoroSubb security corpses littering the floor, “I reckon.” 

She ran her hand through her mohawk, stopping at the top for a moment as she undid a bundle of knot in her hair, and then felt the cooling medpatch on the top of her skull. “And I’ve just been nursing a scratch this whole time? Sorry for slowing you down, it won’t happen again.” She made about five steps of walking like a normal person, before she started to stumble again, and Davis caught her by the arm.

“You’re in no condition to walk on your own. It would take a miracle to get us out of this situation, so don’t worry nothin’ about it.” Davis said.

N2 finally took a moment of pause. She looked around her, saw her armor was missing, her guns were in the hands of her captors, the alien farthest in front of them had some sort of armor she had never seen in her life before, and the only other member of their squad, the physically strongest of all of them, was being dragged like a sack of potatoes.

“Well a miracle then, that certainly sounds about right, doesn’t it?” She whispered to him as a smirk crawled up her face.

“Um, yes. Why are you making that face? You don’t need to make that face right now,” Davis said.

A beep came through on communicator attached to Kwozzit’s blaster rifle. He put it up to his ear as he answered. “Mhm, yes. Yes…. Really? Well, as to be expected of a leader.” He closed the communicator, then turned back to the stormtroopers.

“You’re free to go. You’re leader has offered herself and the scientist as hostages.” Kwozzit said. He smiled at the stormtroopers as he spoke, putting his blaster rifle behind his back. “You’ll be tied up and left on the surface with an SOS beacon. All in all, I think this takeover went much better than could be expected. You’ll probably be picked up by some freelancers, rebels, or if you’re lucky, some Empire troops passing by who realize the futility of the situation. All I know is that your free from my captivity, and I’m free of concern for you once we reach the surface.”

Although the prospects looked bleak, Davis let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure how well this would tie in with the plan to kill Lord Vader, but it did assure he’d at least live to see the end of this tunnel.

He turned his head to N2, and for just a moment, saw she had a small piece of metal between her fingers. He looked her dead in the eyes, his face aghast, and she winked right back at him.

* * *

“We can not let this go on further, we have to counte---” An explosion cut off the call. Another refinery had been captured. The hologram cut out, it’s last visual a fireball engulfing the room.

“Ok,” Andalos said, “My employees know me a little bit better, so they’re at least trying to meet me in person.”

He slicked back his sweat covered hair, and hoped that his terrified shaking wasn’t being conveyed through the hologram call. The other five dozen plant managers on the call didn’t look much better, when this call began, there were over two hundred of them.

He was a bit annoyed that he had to fill the role of plant manager, basically demoting himself, but workplace casualties had made the shift necessary.

“I’m going to make a call to get us out of this, I know that we would rather keep SoroSuub Corporation affairs private, but uh…” He paused, wincing at the screams coming from the mag locked security door; “You’re gonna get it now, Mr.Voss!”, “Down with SoroSuub!”, “My family died in the mines, just like you will!”, and many more expressions of what Andalos would call, ‘Low approval ratings.’

When he ended the call, Andalos almost reached to page his secretary to make the next call, a habit he was having a hard time breaking out of. He instead call in a number, with his own two hands, and a hologram came into the room of a man wearing green and grey fatigues with a patch of two crossed swords on his arm.

The hologram was peeling away the skin of an apple with a pocket knife, his interest in the conversation already waning.

“Hello from the Clash of Corulas Mercenaries. I’m Yovis. State your business.” The hologram said.

“I am Andalos Voss of the SoroSuub Corporation, stationed on Sullust, and I request you to send as many warriors as possible to my location. There’s a Rebel uprising,” Andalos said.

“O.K., 40 Billion Credits sound like a good starting point?” The mercenary asked.

Andalos scoffed, his attention going back to his door for a moment. “40 billion sounds like a lot for just one plant. One billion.”

“40 billion is the going rate.” Yovis dropped the skin off the apple peel into his mouth. “You have quite a few people bidding against you right now, price has just raised to 41 billion. 

Andalos cursed under his breath, of course his fellow plant managers would be trying to undermine him, greedy bastards were only worried about saving their own hide!

“90 Billion and my yearly bonus! We’re all going to be dead in minutes, so now would be an excellent time to take the offer!”

The mercenary thought it over for a moment, chewing the apple peel without closing their mouth. They flipped their knife shut and said, “Fair enough. Our crew will be with you shortly, we’ve been on standby for this for awhile now. Tell your employees a kindly few thousand will be joining them in just one moment.”

The transmission shut off, and Andalos sat back in his chair, covered in sweat, but doing his best to try and calm himself down. He opened up a drawer on his desk and pulled out a datapad. He mashed at the screen of the datapad, until it took him the live camera feeds outside of the building.

First the fighters arrived, then the corvettes, the cruisers, and finally the star destroyers. All stolen legal property of someone, but Andalos noted, it was for a good cause.

“Oh credits,” Andalos said giddily, reaching underneath the desk and grabbing a bottle of Dark Yavinite Rum and pulling the cork off, “is there anything you can't do?” He took a sip from the bottle as he watched the mercenaries begin their counterattack, blasting any of those filthy rebels and miners on the ground from their ship. It began as a chuckle, but he couldn’t hold in his uproarious laughter, howling at the group outside, as their calls for his death turned to screams of terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man so I guess it's time to talk about the thing that's been shaking up this community since the last time I posted, the thing I've been looking forward to months.
> 
> Shingeki No Kyojin/ Attack on Titan Chapter 125.
> 
> Personally I'm having a blast reading this, series! Lovin' these twists and turns, these new developments, this slick pacing! 
> 
> Because it only comes out once a month though I should give this last arc a reread because I'm not gonna lie, my memory is big bad, need frequent recaps. All I remember is that I'm batting a 50/50 for predictions on this thing, and that's enough to keep me happy. 
> 
> P.S. I wasn't a fan of the newest movie, always sad to see when talent is wasted like that, hopefully whatever the next movie is is better.
> 
> P.P.S HOW DID THIS CHAPTER BECOME ALMOST 7K WORDS ** AFTER ** EDITING???? Added an asterisk next to the publishing date because if they keep being this long, it'll definitely be every other week but #thedream is for the chapter rhythm to be like "short-mid-long-short, repeat," kind've like the recent Zelloa Introduction arc, but we'll see how it goes.
> 
> P.P.P.S (1/21/20) Wait a second, I'm doing the entire digital design for a fifty page (in Google doc at least) DnD Module my friends and I made with the deadline being the 15th of February, starting right now. I am extremely positive I will not have an update this week or probably the week after. Sorry for the delay, see you when we next meet.
> 
> Ta Ta For now  
\- Faris Beshma


	13. So Long Sullust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Alliances are difficult precisely because there is no 'boss' in them. They are partnership. And partners are equals, by definition. One cannot give orders to a partner." - Peter Drucker_
> 
> Picard, Phasma, and Nien must work together to find a way out of the tunnels of Sullust during the mercanary's bombardment while N3 forms a new relationship with a local of Sullust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT PSA**
> 
> I have now added actual summaries to all of the chapters of this story. Seemed kinda rude to go in knowing full well this would be over 300k words, and having no quick way to recap.

The exit of the tunnel, the first steps to Picard and Phasma being boarded onto a rebel ship. Their fates were soon to be locked in. In moments they would begin a new life of being bounced from rebel stronghold to rebel stronghold, being held for who knows how long in conditions Picard couldn’t even begin to guess.

This had unfortunately become his best shot at freedom.

It was a long shot, but it was better than the chances Picard had going for him now, his capture would be the best thing to happen to him since he got onto this planet. He could prove to some of the Rebels that he was from another galaxy, prove that he was from Starfleet at least, and if fate was on his side, get in contact with someone who could connect him with his own crew and or Han.

It was quite a gamble, the assault on Takodanna left little to the imagination. Tagge had assured him that the Enterprise had escaped, but that didn’t mean that Han had gone with them. But if he had ….

He took one last look at Phasma, his warden through this whole ordeal. Through it she had been nothing short of monstrous, but as Picard had seen far too many times in his life, it was only because of her schooling. In another life, if she had been raised as he had, maybe they wouldn’t have been so different. He knew for certain that if he had been raised under such propaganda, he wouldn’t be who he had become today. He had to at least hope that the same could be true for Phasma.

Nien Nunb had turned his back to the entrance of the cave, maybe to try and cheer up Phasma and Picard some more as he had been doing their entire march through the tunnels, telling them about his life in the mines, or maybe he would tell them about who where they would be taking them after they left Sullust, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he turned around at the exact wrong moment, the moment a shadow cast over the exit of the tunnel, the moment the screaming started.

“Do you hea--” Were the dustdove’s last words before a blast from the sky shot the earth above the tunnel, and a cave in began. She had begun to run towards them, carrying Phasma’s armor in tow, before the lights on the walls went out, and the exit to the tunnel was sealed with a torrent of stones and dirt.

“Is everyone alright?!” Picard shouted. 

He could no longer hear the screaming above them, through the fallen stones all he could hear was the earth ringing blasts of the ships bombarding the planet. 

“I’m ok,” Nien said, “Lisora, are you alright?”

Silence.

Picard looked around for Phasma, trying to squint through the darkness to no avail, he’d need to find a light to get out of here.

“Nien, do you have a light on you, anyway for us to see our way out of here?”

“I do, but I stumbled a bit when the tunnel collapsed, must’ve fallen somewhere around here. I think your friend’s gun had a light attachment.”

Picard felt his wrist a vice-like grip around his wrist, a grip that screamed how bad of an idea Phasma was about to propose.

She made a low shushing noise, and Picard immediately knew what she was up to. Somehow or another she had found her gun, and was going to make a shot at Nien before he noticed.

“Ah!” Picard shouted as he hurled himself into Phasma, knocking both of them onto the ground. His captor let out a low grunt as the sound of her heavy blaster skid across the stones of the tunnel.

“I think I found the blaster, just tripped over it. It should be right in front of where you hear my voice.” He felt the grip on the collar of his shirt now, Phasma was breathing on him like a raging bull.

“What. In the stars. Are you doing?” She said between clenched teeth.

Nien made a loud cough, and a click was heard, the safety on the blaster was turned off.

“Am I interrupting?” Nien asked as he took the safety off of the blaster. “You don’t have a people living underground for millions of years without them learning how to see in the dark.”  
Nien turned the blaster’s light on and pointed it at the pair. 

“Just a negotiation. If we are to make it out of here alive, all of us will need to act as a team,” Picard said.

“A team? They’re Rebels, we’re as good as dead with them!”

“We’re as good as dead right now. Without cooperation from a person who knows this planet like the back of his hand, we will die before we can even make it into orbit!” Nien had already lowered his gun before Picard finished speaking.

“Well that sounds like a done deal then. No need to put a body in the ground I don’t have to.” He pointed the rifle’s light around the cave and found his flashlight nearby, putting it in his back pocket.

“This is not settled!” Phasma said as she pushed past Picard and started stomping towards Nien.

“Ok, so one body I have to put in the ground then,” Nien said with a sigh, but Phasma stopped dead in her tracks when Nien pointed her rifle at her

Picard stood up and walked next to Phasma. “I know we may not be on the best terms, Major, but…” Picard saw something unusual as he looked at her, her rage was slowly moving to resigned anger, “I think you deserve to live, to see the day when things aren’t as they are now.”

Phasma didn’t acknowledge Picard, didn’t blink, didn’t exhale in relief, she merely assumed an at attention stance and looked to Nien. “My troops, you promise me they’re being taken care of?”

“Well I would sure hope so. They’ve got Kwozzit watching over them, he’s the hope of Sullust. Far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing he can’t handle. They’ve probably been dropped off and picked up by the Empire already,” Nien said.

She turned to Picard.

“If we make it out of this, I’m seeing to it that you get court martialed. Do I make myself clear?” Her tone was so calm that Picard knew it was a promise.

“A Major against an esteemed scientist on the forefront of the Empire’s technology? I’m sure we’ll find the legal proceedings for that to be quite interesting,” Picard said.

“Well if that’s that,” Nien said, “we should head back the way we came, I know another way out of here.”

As Nien picked up Phasma’s armor and tied it together, dragging it along the ground, Picard looked to Lisora, the Dustdove crushed beneath the stone. He could only see one of her wings outstretched from the stone, but it wouldn’t take too long to dig her out and give her a proper burial.

“Your partner, do you have a ceremony for her?” Picard asked.

“No, she’s already been returned to the tunnels of Sullust, given her pulse to it. There’s nothing left to be done.” Nien said. 

“Pulse? Do you have some form of tremorsense?” 

“Of course, it’s the only way I could hear Sullust’s heartbeat.”

* * *

N3’s eyes opened, was he flying? No, birds fly, ships fly, there has to be some sort of control to fly. He was hurling, hurling down to the planet much faster than he had any want to.

N3 hit the ground hard, bouncing off of the dirt and rocks like a skipping stone before he came to a stop, wheezing in pain as he rolled onto his back and saw the most confusing of things; The sky, that ugly murky gray sky of Sullust, how in the stars did he get back up to the surface, and why were the Clash’s ships in the sky?

He went to stand up, and found it much easier than he thought he would. Oh shit, he thought to himself, as it was immediately obvious that he must’ve been in shock. 

He put his hand to his face and found blood starting to run from his nose, but dried blood around his chin. He had hit his face on the fall, but why would it be dried already? He tapped his finger to his nose and it felt swollen as a balloon, definitely broken, but swelling this quick was -- oh. Now it was all coming back to him.

That bird, that putrid, featherbrained beakfaced curr. That idiotic miner had burst his nose, and now it was completely broken, probably wouldn’t look the same even after the medigel. He didn’t care much about the fact that it was broken, but just the idea of having to look into the mirror and know that piece of filth had left his mark on him, was enough to send him into a frenzy.

He ground his teeth like stones against one another and clenched his fist hard enough that his veins bulged with each grasp at the air he made, as he whipped his head back and forth to find that damned bird. 

He saw his teammates. They were struggling, helping one another get their bearings from some type of shell shock.

They hadn’t been any use for him yet, no need to assume they would be now. In fact, it was N1’s fault any of this happened to begin with. If that fat moron hadn’t given away his position, he would’ve been able to shoot his way out of the situation with his minigun, A gun that cost more credits than his yearly salary. He wanted to at least have target practice on some scum once, mowing down the rebels and miners before they even knew what happened.

He would’ve been the hero of the mission, maybe even gotten a promotion to death trooper himself, instead, he was armorless, gunless, bleeding from his face, and getting ragdolled like some sort of weakling.

Now that he thought of it, it was rather odd that he was flying through the air when he came to, were the Clash’s ships firing on them?

He looked back up at the ships in the sky, they were firing all right. The SoroSuub building was far off in the horizon, maybe about an hour’s walk away, he could see a cruiser class ship pumping out dropships, rectnagles and cubes, must’ve been refitted from the Clone Wars era. Coasting through the sky were about a dozen different corvette class ships doing strafing runs, firing their lasers onto the planets surface. 

In total, it was easily over a thousand mercenaries from the Clash, more than he had ever seen in action at once when he was working for them. Whoever was paying must’ve dropped millions for this, could’ve been anyone though, not like he could tell who they were trying to blast apart. He could figure out who the ships were aiming at and how to get off of this planet, after he had found that squawking coal shoveler.

N3 heard a low groan, a wounded tweet some would call it, coming from beneath a ridge behind him. 

He stumbled over to the ridge, another wheeze came out of him, he definitely had fractured a rib, but that wouldn’t stop him. What, if anything, could ever stop a moment like this? That moment of blissful hatred, a rising anger coming to peak clarity, as he came to the end of the ridge and looked down and saw the perfect image; that bird was laying in a mangled heap beneath him.

Their wings looked broken, their foot was twisted, and he was breathing like the wounded beast he was. The suit of stone he was wearing around him definitely didn’t seem to help him, it looked like he was trapped in it, its grip tight around his neck.

N3 staggered down the ridge, clutching his core tightly as he felt his insides move around like jelly. That fall was hurting him more than he thought it had, he felt an odd warmness in his fingers and looked at them, blood. 

“So that’s it huh?!” N3 shouted as he stood over the dustdove, “You think you get to kill me, and just die peacefully here?” 

Kwozzit didn’t respond, his eyes opened, but they were tired, beaten. Any argument N3 wanted to get out of him would only come after immediate medical care and days of rest. A rest that N3 had no intention of giving him.

“Wake up you curr, I’m not finished with you ye--” N3 folded over as a glob of blood splat from his mouth. The fall must’ve punctured a rib. Ontop of some stupid bird on a mining planet was too miserable of a way to die, so he wouldn’t die, he couldn’t die, but damnit all if his body wasn’t trying to make him work for it.

He would have to cut it short, no grand speeches, no declarations of superiority, he would just kill the creature and be on to his next stop, finding their squadron’s ship.

He took one of his hands off of his ribs, his eyes shut in pain as he reached to strangle his enemy, when he felt a crushing grasp around his wrist. He creaked one eye open, and saw that the stone armor around the bird had created a spire up to him, shackling his wrist to Kwozzit’s chest.

“Let… let me go!” N3 struggled out, but the stone armor held still, even as the stormtrooper began to struggle, even as the pain stabbed through his chest like a vibroblade. 

He could feel more blood coming up his throat, and a rage began boiling over through him, racing throughout his mind, I have been through too much in life, to die because of some stupid bird! Useless teammates, absolutely worthless, if it wasn’t for them I could’ve gotten the jump on them! Didn’t even want to be a damned stormtrooper, only here because--.

“A stronger will has risen.”

“The stars…?” N3 asked as he looked around, who was talking to him? It must’ve been like in the briefs, one of those “Forced Mind Finagglings.” That did not explain however, why the armor had begun to glow a dark red, and that creatures eyes’ had shot open.

“Please,” Kwozzit grunted out with a pained look on his face, “please, you have to stop!” 

“Me Stop? Get your armor off of me!” He shook his arm as hard as he could, but the stone’s grip was too tight, and only getting tighter as it spread up his forearm, enclosing over his bodysuit.

“A will chosen is a will kept.”

There it went again! He had to separate himself from Kwozzit. Now.

If Kwozzit doesn’t get his this thing off of me it’ll probably crush me to death or worse, damn beast weapons! N3 thought to himself, his anger pausing for a moment as he realized, with rapidly growing confusion, Why in the stars do I know this bird’s name?!

The stone armor continued its spread, crawling up to the chest of N3. By now pieces of the armor were starting to retract off of Kwozzit, crawling off of his feet, and going up to his waist as the armor shifted onto the stormtrooper.

N3 tried pulling his wrist away again, but he was locked in, yet the effort was beginning to show some results. He found himself able to lift Kwozzit a little off of the ground with just his one arm when he had an epiphany, this was not something he should’ve been able to do.

The cracks and crevices of the stone armor were beginning to glow a deep blue, pulsating every moment, but with each pulse the light faded further into darkness.

Everywhere the armor had spread he was beginning to feel a numbing sensation of the pain surging through his body, like the jigsaw puzzle of cracked bones and burst blood vessels were carefully placing themselves back together inside of him.

“You know what?” N3 said as he lifted Kwozzit higher, straining his arm as the stone creeped over him, now going all the way up to his neck, “Looks like this is the last you’ll be seeing of me, thanks for wasting my time.”

N3 cocked his other arm back, a smirk across his face as he watched that beaked freak take his last breath. The stormtrooper didn’t even care about the stone attaching itself to him anymore, for now he was living with the pride of the moment. The strength of his own body to survive a shot from a ship, his own ingenuity at not only getting to Kwozzit, but using the beast’s own armor against him, and not to mention the glory of killing one of this rebellion’s own leaders with his bare hands. He would be leading his own squadron by the time he got back to the Annihilator.

The armor began glowing again, a dim red as N3 shot his fist towards Kwozzit. A chill shot through N3’s spine.

“Please …. I was chosen. I was ...” The voice faded off from inside of N3, and he looked at Kwozzit. The dustdoves eyes were filled with fear for a moment, then they were full of nothing but a life once lived.

The armor had fully separated from the dustdove, and as it shifted around on N3, grinding itself into place,going from the back of his head to the tip of his toes.. 

N3 thought of dropping Kwozzit to the ground but something felt … wrong about it. He knew the creature had only won by getting the jump on him, but maybe if they had actually fought, the cursed thing may have a chance against him, no point in disgracing a valuable opponent.

He placed Kwozzit on the ground, closed his eyes, taking a moment to wonder just what in the world this bird or the armor he was wearing even came from.

As he stood up, N3 realized there was some sort of makeshift com link laying on the ground, a grey cylinder held together by tangles of wires and shoddy welding. Kwozzit must’ve been carrying it underneath his armor somehow.

He held down the red button on the side of the cylinder, and heard a sharp buzz through the small speaker in the center of the com, “You are currently hailing the Annihilator, state your purpose.”

He looked up the ridge and saw his two squadmates shambling towards him, then felt a violent stirring in his chest. His heart began racing but he didn’t know why as a deep sense of fear began creeping over him.

With each moment it felt like the world beneath him was shaking, preparing to shatter itself at the first opportunity, and he would be nothing but a pebble falling in, just another piece to be swallowed up.

“This is Phasma Squad calling in from Sullust,” N2 blurted out, “We need an evac immediately!”

* * *

“Alright, if we take these we oughta be back to the surface in no time,” Nien said as he patted the seat of a speeder bike.

They had been retracing their steps through the tunnel to escape when Nien took them on a different route, telling them it would be much quicker if they thought their reflexes could handle it. Phasma had said it couldn’t be anymore dangerous than the rest of the missions she had gone on so far, but Picard was less optimistic. Now that he saw he was going to be travelling through a tunnel on some sort of advanced motorcycle, his hesistance was yet to be assauged.

Luckily for him, he knew his comfort about the situation didn’t much matter, he just needed to leave the planet, and hopefully with Nien.

Nien was struggling to get the death trooper armor onto his speeder bike, fiddling with the rope as he tried to think of the best way to tie it onto the bike. He had to put down his blaster

“Here, like this,” Phasma said as she grabbed the collar of her chest armor, snatching it so firmly that a loud slap echoed through the tunnels, and shoving it into Nien, “your best just strapping it onto your own back. Any other way messes up the weight distribution, and you’ll end up smashing it or yourself against the rocks.”

Nien looked up to her, then looked to her blaster on the floor next to him.

Phasma looked at her blaster, then back to Nien.

They both looked at each other.

“Well hurry up then, I’m not going to teach you how to tie it onto yourself.” Phasma had already walked back to Picard as Nien was strapping the armor onto himself.

As Picard put his feet into the pedestals, he noticed that his bike wasn’t rising into the air. Nien had already tied the armor onto himself, hopped onto his bike, started it, and put his goggles on.

“Goggles may be a bit big for you, but they’re in the glove compartment. Guess the guards thought more of us sullustans would be working here, but never quite worked out. Nice of ‘em to be considerate though.” Nien was already revving the engine of his speeder bike, goggles strapped tightly to his head, as Picard looked for a way to turn his bike on.

“The center button, the green one,” Phasma said, “you press down on the pedals at the same time to turn it on. Make sure to be steady about the pedals though, they control your altitude. To turn it off, you hold down the button for a full second.”

Picard turned on the bike, gently ascending as he gingerly pumped the pedal. It wasn’t too different from the old motorcycle his father used to try and teach him how to ride around the vineyard. He had gotten the hang of it eventually, right before his father ran out of patience for him falling over sideways with it.

Once Picard was comfortably onto his bike, Phasma walked over to hers and shot it up in an instant, waiting for Nien to be the first to make a move.

“Go on, and don’t try to lead us into any traps while we’re down here.” Phasma eyed her armor that was strapped onto Nien’s back. Picard couldn’t overlook that it was a small miracle she hadn’t tried to kill both him and Nien already.

Nien shrugged and put the throttle onto his speeder, going at a steady pace down the tunnel with his high beams on.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Phasma flatly asked Picard.

“Do what, escape from this planet?”

“Join the rebels.”

Picard looked at Phasma, he couldn’t read her. She was giving him that neutral look again, like this was everyday turbolift talk. 

He revved the handlebars and followed behind Nien, keeping a good distance between the two to account for any errors either of them may make.

Phasma pulled up beside him, “What do you have to gain from them?” she asked, “you’re part of some ‘utopian’ society, right?”

“There are flaws in every society, elements that we must strive to improve and sustain, but,” Picard said as he ducked down, dodging a stalactite over his head, “In comparison to the Empire, yes, I must say that I do in fact live in a utopia.”

“So it’s in your best interest to continue working for us in order to kill Vader. The rebels may have destroyed the Death Star but Vader ….” Phasma’s brow furrowed as she began to slowly accelerate past Picard as her mind wandered off, then slowed herself back down, “Vader is too powerful. He’s wiped out entire platoons of rebels by himself, I’ve seen him survive dogfights of fifty ships against his own. No matter how close the rebels may think they are to winning, they’ll never be able to kill that man. We’re at least forging a path to do.”

“And then what? You kill one man and suddenly the entire Empire changes?”

“Yes! We’ll be free from the tyranny of a religious fanatic, it opens up an entirely new window for where the Empire can go.”

“Go to where? Do you know what your world, your government looks like to an outsider?”

“It’s one that represents strength, flawed, but it’s strength. We may have to struggle to ensure all of our citizens’s safety, but it’s a fight I’ll be glad to die for.” 

Both Picard and Phasma had to weave out of the way of a stalagmite, but then swerved back together.

“No, what I see is a government that is proud to tread on the weak to assert the dominance of one race. I see generations of citizens lost because their government decided they would get more power out of treating their race like filth. Children indoctrinated to believe that other races are weaker because they aren’t human, and that their superiority over them is assured and that anything that would dare to make them equal is paramount to treason. So if I am to be quite frank with you, Major, I see a government in which I want no part in.”

“But that can change, once Vader is killed, the Empire can finally be free to accomplish its mission to spread stability through the galaxy.” She caught the look Picard gave her and continued on, “Do you have any idea what I saw as a girl? I saw a republic that could barely keep itself together, letting its citizens die by the millions to the Separatists. A cult of a few thousand monks ruled the government from behind the shadows. The only one who could bother to do anything, the only one with the power to help someone like me, a human with no family left, nowhere to go, and nothing to live for, was Chancellor Palpatine freeing us from the shackles of that cult, and guiding the galaxy into a new era. He could do it again, we could do it again, if we kill Vader, end the rebellions, and teach this galaxy how to unite behind one vision.”

“With every non-human treated as a disposable creature.”

“We … could learn otherwise, I grew up with some on Coruscant, I know they’re not like what the texts say.” Phasma took her eyes off of the tunnel in front of her for a moment and looked to Picard.

He knew with one look that she was telling the truth, or at least what she thought it was.

“And yet , you said nothing when your soldiers were mistreating someone because of their race back at the SoroSuub building. Why? Because it was easier for you?” Phasma said nothing as she turned her attention back towards their path. 

“A people cannot change overnight. The seeds of equality are planted by the oppressed, but it falls on both them and the oppressors to nurture and protect them. Do you think your government is capable of that, Phasma?” Picard asked.

“I did not pick every member on my team,” Phasma said with a sigh, “but I must accept responsibility for all of them … I’m not a fan of it, I know it’s best for team cohesion to say nothing, but if it will make us, the Empire and Starfleet a better team, I will stop it next time.”

“Starfleet and Empire will never be on the same team,” Picard said.

“Starfleet has the greatest chance of killing Vader. Your ship did more damage to him than I’ve seen in over three decades of services. If you were willing to assist us, we could kill him without having to go on quest like this. With our powers combined, we could lead the galaxy into a golden age of peace and prosperity!”

Picard was shocked to hear her plan laid out so bare, but it made sense. She had realized that torture wasn’t working, that he was willing to hop to the Rebellion at the first chance, this was her hail mary. One that he was not going to take.

“From what I’ve read, from what I’ve seen, and from what happens that I spend each minute in your squad, I feel that the Empire and Starfleet will never reach an amicable agreement.”

A silence fell upon them both, the only sound that remained in the tunnels was the whir of their three speeder bikes. 

After going past dormant beasts of camouflaged stone, leaping over cavernous pits, and ascending through a narrow spiral, the group finally found the exit to the cave system.

They all got off of their speederbikes, not like they had many other options, the exit was only about as tall as their shins.

“Yeah so this isn’t really an entrance we used much. Used to use it when I was a kid, had a few pet rockrenders, but Empire really clamped down on people wandering about.”

“You mean the SorroSuub Corporation,” Phasma corrected.

“No, same difference.” Nien laid down on his belly, and crawled through the opening to the outside world.

“All clear here! Not a ship in the sky and my old freighter is parked out here, let’s go,” Nien said.

Picard looked to Phasma, he had enough experience with Phasma to know that if he crouched down first, chances were Phasma would yank him back into the cave, whack him over the head, wrestle him onto a speeder bike, and try and find their squad before Nien even turned back around. 

“I insist, Major,” Picard said as he motioned to the exit.

Phasma exhaled harshly through her nostrils and crouched down, spotting the freighter. “Near the size and shape of a jawa vehicle, were you planning on putting your whole colony inside of this?” 

“And some resources for the Rebel Alliance, but that’s neither here nor there, No ones gotten to it and it's better to cut our losses here than try and fight off mercenary armies. Besides,” Nien said as he pulled out a remote from his pocket and pressed a button, causing the ship’s doors to open and ramp to descend, “Not like we have much longer on this planet anyways” 

As the door to the ship opened, two TIE fighters emerged in the sky, closing in on their location like sharks to blood.

“How in the…” Nien mumbled.

“That’s the great thing about Death Trooper armor,” Phasma said as she tapped her collarbone, “come with emergency trackers, one switch and a beacon is sent out an Empire only broadcast wave.”

Picard clenched his fist, barely able to restrain his rage as he looked at Phasma. He had nearly made it to the Rebellion, but it was hopeless now, he knew Nien’s ship had no chance of escaping the TIE fighters, he could only hope Nien knew as well.

“If you agree to surrender now, I will say you were our guide out of the tunnels, and that will be the beginning and end of our interaction,” Phasma said.

Picard unclenched his fist, as both he and Nien looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

“What? Is this not a sufficient olive branch for Rebel Alliance? For a future beyond this planet?” Phasma said to the both of them.

“No just uh, unexpected. I’ve been a tour guide before, not a shameful hat to wear at at all” Nien said as he closed the ship’s door. “Saying I was carrying your armor to try and help with rockrenders sound like a good plan?”

“As any,” Phasma said.

Picard stepped closer to Phasma, whispering to her, “I hope you realize this doesn’t change anything between us.”

“Of course not, only actions will. Actions get results, I help Nien, I help the Rebels. You help me, you help the universe, and I’ll even make sure to get you back to your people. Now do you want to work together or not?”

With a stern look, Picard nodded at Phasma, “Only as long as necessary.”

The two TIE fighters landed, and on them left four members of the Empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy everyone! Good news is, that D&D book I'm working on should be finished by the end of the month, other good news is, I can now resume writing on this regularly because of completing it/ all of the bad news going on in the world at the moment. Remember to stay safe and stay as clean as possible.
> 
> Until next time, enjoy some [ chill tunes ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fYwtCsDsbM)
> 
> Best,
> 
> Faris Beshma


	14. Where are the electric sheep?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” - Unknown_
> 
> After reading Zelloa's datapad, Troi conducts an experiment with Data.

_And through each of us, the Force flows. Though it may speak with a different language through all of us, it’s voice is still heard. We are one with the Force, the Force is one with us. The Force is one with Them, the Force is one with us all. Through joining in one voice, millenniums of the force being used for discord shall finally become the great uniter._

As Troi finished the chapter she looked to the time, and with bitter resignation, accepted that she had just spent the entire night reading. She hadn’t found something so interesting to read in years, the only thing that came close was the Ferengi adaptation of The Prince that Lieutenant Barclay had gifted to her.

If even half of the things in this were true, not only was there an entirely new field of science to be explored that hadn’t even been discovered in their galaxy, she would possibly be one of the leading experts in it! That was a lot to presume though, as Zelloa wasn’t what she would call a reliable source, and there was always the chance that something around them had caused her betazoid senses to have some sort of flair up or worse, a spontaneous mutation.

There were only two hours left until she would wake up on her regular schedule, but she figured she may as well stay awake at this rate, two hours of sleep weren’t going to make much of a difference. Besides, she had an experiment to do.

Troi got up from her bed and got dressed back into her uniform, just in case she happened to see anyone besides who she was looking for at what was essentially four in the morning. After getting her blue uniform on, she headed straight for the turbolift with holopad in hand.

“Hello? Data, are you there?” Troi asked into her communicator as the turbolift doors closed.

“Yes, I am here on the Enterprise,” Data said.

“Alright I’ll be heading to you with something I think you may be interested in, where are you?”

“I am currently in Engineering.”

Troi pressed the button to go to the engineering room. “Fantastic! I’ll see you there in a minute,” as she said it, she realized she was nearly shaking with excitement. To think that just a few hours ago she was terrified for what being in this new galaxy may have meant for all of them, but now she was finally making some progress!

As she entered the engine room, Troi made brisk greetings to the night crew that was at work. They seemed more stressed than usual, having started their shifts earlier than usual and running them later too would have that effect. As she passed them all it dawned on how her how many more appointments she would have in the future to help them with their mental health, but if her hypothesis was correct about this whole Force thing, she would be more equipped than ever to help them.

When she found Data he was busy helping with the driver coil, helping to solder some pieces back into place. Judging by the piles of scrap next to him, it seemed that some of it had been completely fried by the ionic blast that had hit them and started their travel to this galaxy to begin with. 

“Data, I’ve recently come across some new information that I think may be beneficial,” Troi said as she held out the datapad, “I think you should give it a look over before I ask you for this favor.” She waited for a moment as she held the datapad out for Data, noticing that there was an odd whooshing sound coming from his area. She looked to the tube above him for inhaling the exhaust of the solder’s fumes, it was turned off.

Data held up one finger, then flicked a switch near him, the inhalition tube turned on, and Data blew fumes into it for just a moment, then immediately turned it back off. “It’s important to save energy in our current state,” he said over his shoulder to Troi, “Although diagnostics have been run, it’s best to be cautious about the limits of our current predicament until we finish our repairs,” Data said.

Data put his solder down, and then turned his full attention to Troi, “I believe I’ve reached a pausing point, give me a moment to read over this,” he said as he took the datapad, and began scrolling through it.

Troi couldn’t even bother to be shocked at how fast Data was going, scrolling through each section the moment he laid his eyes on them. Data’s reading speed was as fast as his processor, what had taken her an entire night to read only took him a few moments.

“In summary, there’s a religion centered around usage of “the Force” and they believe that it needs to stop being held only between two factions for power, and instead activated by everyone in the galaxy in order to “achieve balance.” Is that correct?” Data asked as he gave the datapad back to Troi.

“Yes, that’s the gist of it,” Troi said, “but I think that the person who gave me this believes that I have access to the Force.” 

Data tilted his head at her, confusion spreading across his face. “But you have never experienced this before, is this something that develops only in this region in this universe?”

“Or our galaxy could be the special exception, but that’s beyond the point. When we were down on Takodana and Zelloa tried to influence my mind, there was a chance he was using the Force!”

“So…?”

“So, the Force is something you have to learn,like any language or skill.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you would be able to block Zelloa’s use of the Force out.” Data said flatly as Troi crossed her arms over her chest and stood up straight, even he could see she was confident about where this conversation was going.

“Or why I was able to communicate with Vader, unless,” Troi said as she smirked, “There are natural predispositions towards people's ability in the Force, and I have one towards telepathy and other matters of the mind.”

“An interesting theory, how can I assist you in figuring out if it is correct?” Data asked.

“Well, you have a mind, I was wondering if it would be alright to try and use some form of Force telepathy on you.” Troi said.

“But I am an android, how do you know if it will have the same effect it would have on a human?”

Troi thought back to the pain she saw Han struggling through on Takodana, first being trapped in an illusion, and then her accidentally invading his mind. “It could or couldn’t work, but I think you would be the safest choice to work on with just figuring out if I have any ability to use it,” Troi said.

“Indeed, it has the lowest risk. If something goes wrong, I can be repaired, where as if something goes wrong with someone else, the damage may be irreparable,” Data said.

“Data, I’m sorry when you say it like that I … I...” A deep wave of shame began filling inside of Troi as she searched for words, was she really about to just use her friend like he was some sort of tool? In her pursuit she had completely disregarded Data’s own feelings on the matter.

“I take no offense to it, this is the most optimal choice and may result in a great breakthrough for us. How do we proceed?”

Troi took a breath to recompose herself, and placed the datapad on top of a crate next to them. “Ok, in the datapad it said something about focusing, trying to feel the Force. When I used it earlier it just felt like second nature, accidental if anything. So maybe I just ….”

She walked to Data and closed her eyes as she put a palm on her forehead. Nothing happened.

“Is it working?” Data asked.

“No, but your forehead is much cooler than I expected it to be,” Troi said as she rubbed her hands together.

“Though my positronic brain does generate a fair amount of heat, it’s kept cool by my water coolant system that goes throughout all of my internal organs and wiring,” Data said.

“Oh, of cour--” It came to her like a lightning bolt, empathy was the key! She was an empath, she had to dig into their emotions to form a connection with them; with Han it was his apprehension about the moment, with Zelloa it was his thinly veiled arrogance, and with Vader, perhaps he had formed the link after sensing her fear at the situation. Even thinking of it now made a chill go up her spine, but learning how to confront something like that meant learning more about it, and now she knew she was taking her first steps towards understanding the Force. 

Trying to understand Data would be slightly more difficult, but it wouldn’t be impossible. Just because he didn’t broadcast his emotions out as plainly as most other people didn’t mean he didn’t have any. He was caring, he was inquisitve, she felt safe to say he felt a deep loneliness at times or else he wouldn’t have made a daughter or adopted a cat. Being different did not make him inaccessible.

Troi took another deep breath and placed her palm to Data’s forehead once again, now trying to feel with every emotion she could associate with Data, every hope and fear he could have, and every fond and fraught moment she’d had with him.

She felt a buzz of static course through her. Sitting underneath a fig tree was Data, plopping one fat purple fig after another into his mouth from a shoddily made wicker bask. 

“Data?” Troi called out, but it sounded hollow and distant.

Data turned his head to her and walked towards her, stepping over rotted black figs as he made his way to her and offered her a fig. “These are the ones which I have found,” he said as he took one and held it up, “I failed to acquire all of them, but I think …. The ones that I’ve collected may be better because of that.”

She touched a fig, and was immediately back in Engineering, looking at Data.

Data blinked a few times and shook his head as if trying to get out of a stupor, “Did you find any success?” 

“Yes! Did you feel any different?” Troi asked.

“I felt what I believe you would call, ‘groggy’ for a moment, but I feel perfectly fine now,” Data said.

“Well then Data,” Troi said with a beaming smile, she knew Data wasn’t a fan of handshakes or hugs, so in a state of barely contained joy she settled for giving him two thumbs up, “I think Starfleet has found their first ever Force User!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, one week in a row? WHO'S MANS IS THIS???!?!? 
> 
> Anyway, I hope everything is going as well as possible for everyone given the current circumstances. Chapter is shorter than others since I'm still trying to get used to my new work/life schedule, plus I keep finishing chapters going, "How did this get so long?!" and uh, turns out stopping them before they become really long is a great way to do that.
> 
> [ Until next time, ](https://www.bustle.com/p/the-fig-tree-quote-in-the-bell-jar-is-always-used-out-of-context-it-actually-changes-the-entire-meaning-8509944)
> 
> \- Faris Beshma


	15. Talking Ourselves to a Crossroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right place but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment." Dorothy Neville _
> 
> The travelers find out their next destination as they put the past behind them.

“You’re sure he won’t mind?” 

“Well we just finished burying him in that lake over there, so no. I don’t think he’ll worry all that much.”

Bahsaum was running his palm along the wing of the naboo starfighter ship, It was the nicest starship he had ever seen. Whereas all the ships in Kanata’s Crew were ramshackled, battered, and filled with all manners of refuge, the abyssal black paint and chrome accents of the starfighter weren’t even adorned with scratches.

“Gof would never stop talking about how much he loved The Silver Chariot, wouldn’t even let us touch it,” The gamorrean guard said indignantly as he slapped at the airforce patch on his shoulder, “but hey, what do I know about flying?”

Bahsaum rubbed his chin for a moment, his hand barely making it out of the sleeve of his colorful robe. “Well I’ve already paid for it, so I guess I can decide what to do with it. Go ahead and give it a spin,” Bahsaum said with a grin as he walked up the steps they had placed next to the ship, and opened up the cockpit.

On the dashboard of the ship Bahsaum saw a necklace with an odd symbol on it. He grabbed the necklace and inspected it closer, thinking iit looked like a peeled banana with an angry face on the bottom. “What’s this?” The Forisch asked as he held it up to the two Gamorrean pilots.

“The Naboo Royal Crest, Gof was real into getting the Imperial presence off of Naboo,” one of the pilots said while his partner had already ran up the steps and hopped into the cockpit, looking at the controls like a wookie on Life Day. “See where that got him though, best not to mess with things that don’t mess with your profits has always been my saying.”

When the pilot was ready for take off, Bahsaum hopped down and walked over to some shade in the trees, while the remaining pilot looked back to the castle. It was a walk from the landing pad, but after the Empire had led such a rampage through the area, it was at least a scenic route. 

The pilot patted the pockets of his grey jumpsuit, once, twice, thrice over with increasing speed until he muttered a curse under his breath. “I forgot some of my gearin the castle. You mind tellin’ my wingmate where I am when he gets back down?”

Bahsaum gave him a nod, as the pilot left Bahsaum took a moment to admit that this would probably be the last time he saw his home.

He had been raised on Takodana by his parents and the rest of Maz’s pirate crew. His parents had been lost in the voids ages ago, Maz was missing now, and they still hadn’t even found all of the crew in the wreckage of the battle yet. Bahsaum told himself they had probably just blasted off to other planets in the panic, or were still hiding somewhere in the jungle. Sure, they loved Maz and the castle with every fiber of their being, but he hoped they had abandoned him just this one time. 

Not to mention the nagging headache he had since that Force Faithful, Zelloa, had shown up. They had healed him, somehow, but everytime he tried to think back to when Starfleet and Han had arrived, it was like reaching through a bucket of broken glass. Earlier it wasn’t even impossible without him nearly fainting.

He had shot people for more and shot people for less, but he was at least alive now. No matter how annoyed he was with the circumstances, or how much he woke screaming in his sleep from night terrors, or how it felt like he’d have to piece the last few days together like a puzzle with missing pieces, he was alive.

The day had finally come though, the one he had been thinking about since he was a child. One away from the life of the Kanata Crew, one where he finally got to begin his own life, be his own person. He wasn’t just “That guard” anymore he would be Bahsaum Kanata. Whatever that meant.

When he asked Maz what to do if he ever decided to do, she looked at him like he was crazy, “What do _I_ think you should do with your life? It’s your life! You’ve just gotta go for it, that’s how I got here.”

When the pilot came back with the ship after his joyride, they thanked Bahsaum for the opportunity, and Bahsaum climbed into the ship. Nothing but him, the controls, and a blank screen of what location he wanted to go to.

He stared at the screen for a moment, thinking of where to set the coordinates to. As the seconds turned to minutes, he watched the birds pass by, and began singing a song he was taught while learning the blaster.

_Ooooh, pow pow  
You go  
Oooh, with the pow _\--

_Would you like to go to Utapau?_ The monitor read. He looked behind him and saw the ship’s astromech, gray and purple with a trapezoidal head, staring at him with a growing impatience. He gave the droid a thumbs up, and he left his home in an instant.

* * *

“Han, are you in there? I want to talk about what happened earlier today,” Troi said. Oh what in the worlds was she talking about, that was nearly a full twelve hours ago, she needed to get to sleep but now that she had used the Force on Data, she was terrified of what she may have done to Han.

Had she delved into his inner psyche? Had she travelled to some distant memory that he tried to keep secret? It was even possible that it was a memory that he liked for whatever bizarre reason, and he kept it close to him. Whatever it was, she knew that he knew that she had used the Force on him and that the look on his eyes said how unnerving he found it.

When Han opened the door, Leia was taken aback by the clutter of junk that was already in the room. A full size vending machine lay on its side across the middle of the room, an electric guitar hung on the wall, strange playing cards and dice were littered all about the floor, and not to mention Han was now wearing a dark brown fedora. “All these things the replicator can do, and it can’t even make a decent Sabaac forgery.”

“Well, the replicator does need to know what the item is to replicate it,” Troi said. “The rest of your new belongings though…?” Troi let the question hang in the air as Han looked around back inside of the room and tapped his finger on the brim of his hat.

“Oh yeah, I found the holovids section on the monitor and have been giving them a watch,” Han said, then looked at Troi with his eyes squinted, as if he was trying to solve a mystery. “You ever heard of this Indiana Jones guy? Bears a striking resemblance to me,” Han said.

Troi shrugged, she was never much of a classical cinema fan, she couldn’t even remember the last 20th century film she had seen. Even when she tried to dredge the memory up, all she could remember was the awkwardness of the date she was on, some man talking over the entire film about how deep it was, yet the only line she remembered was “rosebud.”

“Well regardless, I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier today,” Troi said.

“Talk about it?” Han asked, “Nothing to talk about, we had a mission, we finished the mission, and now it’s on to the next job. I have a few ideas for where we could go to a mechanic to fix the last bits of damage on this ship, but I’ll have to talk with my contact first about it.”

Troi didn’t need to use her betazoid senses to read the room. “Do you not want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what? There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I saw it, I saw you and those people on that ship.” Han rolled his eyes and walked back into his room as Troi spoke, going back to the replicator and aimlessly going through its settings, but Troi followed behind him, “I just want you to know that it was an accident, I would never do something like that to you on purpose, but if it’s something that you want to talk about, my room is always open.”

Han scoffed, “Well talking about it won’t bring Ben back.”

“But it can make you feel better about his absence. Our professions mean experiencing the loss of many we care about,” Troi said.

“I know it’s just …” Han paused his scrolling, “I only knew Ben for a few days, it felt like he showed me-- showed all of us a brand new world, and that light into the new world? Snuffed out the moment you see it. I mean, what kind of man just stands around and waits to get cut down by Vader’s saber? If that’s what the Force is telling the Jedi to do, I guess that does explain a lot though,” Han said.

Han’s dark humor was the least shocking part of this conversation, who was this Ben person? Not to mention the fact that the man she had seen on the bridge was the one who had killed Ben, but she came here to help console him, not interrogate him about his past.She knew now wasn’t the time to ask him about it, but if he had known a jedi, and she was afraid of her ending up like Ben, there may be a chance that he knew of more people trying to become Jedi, or it could’ve been his seeming trauma of the event speaking. 

“Well that’s what my office is for, helping us figure out what we’re going through for ourselves, even if it is just learning to look at things from a different point of view,” Troi said.

Han smirked at Troi as he turned off the replicator. “Office? Have I been demoted from your room?” Han asked as he stepped towards her. 

Troi blinked at the statement, had she actually said that? Was Han always this warm? It nearly felt like he was glowing with warmth as he stood nearly chest to chest with her. “It’s just the drowsiness getting to me. Now if I recall correctly, there’s about one hour until we have to be on the bridge for today’s shift, I’m going to get ready and see you there”

She wasn’t about to jump into bed with a future patient, but she did have to admit that Han had his own kind of rogueish charm, rough around the edges, maybe they could have a fling together once all of their worries with the ship and being in this universe had been wrapped up .

They had entered a new galaxy, gone to new planets, and for once Riker wasn’t the first one being offered an experience with the locals. They truly were far far away.

It wasn’t until she got onto the command bridge that she truly felt how tired she was. After a nonstop night of reading and talking, she could feel the dark bags underneath her eyes and the creak of time go by second after second. The sooner they did this meeting, the sooner she could go take a nap.

Everyone was sitting at their normal stations, with the exception that Wesley was missing. Their last mission was fairly dangerous and Troi felt it safe to guess that his mother may have wanted him to take a break from the bridge for a while, so he was probably off helping in engineering. 

“Deanna, how are you holding up?” Riker asked her, “I checked in with the rest of the Away Team, but your room was set to ‘do not disturb.’”

“Yes sorry, I just got really into my reading,” she said as she drowsily watched over the ship’s communication sensors, hoping that any new transmissions they had come in wouldn’t be too testing. “I actually found some very fascinating things in it, I’ll show you when I …” Wait, where had she actually put that holopad? Now that she had mentioned it, she couldn’t even remember the last place she had put it. Was it with Data or in Han’s room? She could’ve sworn she had brought it back from engineering, but …

“When I …?” Riker prodded.

“I’ll get back to you on that one, I just misplaced the holopad, but I can give a briefing on it later today,” Troi said.

Han strolled into the room with Chewie at his side, they were disheveled, smelled of a faint hint of sweat, and made a loud yawn that echoed through the bridge. Chewie looked nicer than usual though, gave them a lazy wave.

G3-E3 followed in behind them, and Han made a clap for attention. “Alright, here’s what I got for you guys today! We’re already in the direction of a mechanic, but I got some friends from the Rebellion that I would like you to meet if you’re serious about getting your captain back. Who’s ready?”

Riker gave him a nod of approval, “Anything for progress is a thing I’d like to hear.”

Han looked taken aback, probably expecting a reprimand from Riker for making unauthorized announcements on the bridge.”In a better mood than yesterday, Cap’n?”

“Fantastically so,” Riker said with a smile, “We’re going as fast as we can, we have a competent crew, and, well…. I had some time to think on it last night. We don’t benefit from clashing heads for the rest of our time together and I’m sure Picard is handling himself well enough, after all, he did survive getting turned into Locutus.”

Han gave him an even more confused look than before, but Troi was smiling at her monitor, happy that things on the bridge were starting to look more positive. 

“So we just wire Gee here into the Counselor’’s computer, dial into the ship’s code, and we’re good to go. If you’ll do the honors,” Han said as he pointed Gee to the computer.

As she approached the computer, GEE hesitantly pulled out her connection plug, now fitted on the end with a converter attatchment for their ship’s computers.

“C’mon ya told me both Geordie and Data told you it would work. Don’t be so nervous about it,” Han said.

G3-E3 gave an unsure couple of beeps, but plugged in and turned her lens to Han.

“Alright dial up Leia, might still be in that cruiser, code should be ‘A-L-D-3-e-R-4-a-N-8-9-1-0.’”

The blue lights on Gee blinked as she waited for a response, then her light stayed solid. 

The silent pause gave Han all the response he needed. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a sigh, “Well, she probably just doesn’t want to answer this ship’s ID. Covert operations and whatnot. Second plan, let's give Luke a call, they should be together.”

“And he’ll pick up?” Riker chimed in.

“And he absolutely will pick up!” Han shot back. “Gee, the code is, ‘womprat1’ don’t worry about any special cases or anything it’s exactly as it sounds. 

Gee plugged the code in, and the response was immediate.

“This is Hein’s Womp Rat Extermination company, we blast ‘em so you don’t have to! How can I help you today,” An obviously faux burly voice said.

“Luke, it’s me, Han!” Han was already rocking his head side to side at Riker, the urge to shout ‘Told ya so!’ only held off by the fact they were on a call.

“Han? What are you doing on a ship with such a weird code?” The excitement was palpable in Luke’s voice, he already reminded Troi a bit of Wesley.

“I believe I have a response for that,” Data said, “I was told that these codes had to be at least somewhat difficult to decipher, so I used a fusion of the traditional numerology system and Vulcan tonal numerical system, as well as--”

“It’s a long story,” Han interrupted. “Listen, me and some new friends need a mechanic and we’re in the outer rim, we need to go somewhere Rebel secured, did your mission on Utapau go okay?” 

“Utapau? Yeah I mean it’s a little messy around here with cleanup, but I don’t think Governor Spauhin is going to be missed.”

“Great, then we’ll be there soon, make sure to have a game of Pazaak ready on the table for me.” Han was about to motion for Gee to end the call, when Luke just had to say it.

“Oof, another gambling game? I don’t think Leia’s gonna want to see us anywhere near that since last time. You do have an apology ready, right?” Luke asked.

Han could feel all attention turn towards him. Attention for glory was one thing, but this? This was a fantastic reason to end a conversation.

“You betcha kid, see ya before you know it.” Han waved for G3-E3 to end the call, and she gently removed her cord from the computer.

“Apology?” Riker asked as Troi looked to Han for a response.

She could feel a slight amount of embarrassment coming off of him, but something was coming off much more than that. Wave after wave of Han’s emotions said, ‘Everything is gonna be alright, right?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy everyone! Hope you're doing well, I have no real important updates related to this actual thing that I am writing and y'all are (hopefully) enjoying, so it's just gonna be a weird hot take this week/ the second anime related thing for this chapter: The Netflix dub of Neon Genesis Evangelion is so bad that watching the weird 360p original dubs are still better. [ Original was just more fun/personality filled](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_l1pZPMcYo). It could just be the fact that I watched the show at the exact perfect time for it to be my favorite of all time, but it just be like that sometime.
> 
> Oh and while I still got ya here, here's some  songs I like
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> \- Faris Beshma
> 
> P.S. We got over 50k words into the fic before hearing a pip from Luke or Leia, think I may've set a record here.


	16. Reunion of the Rebels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Every parting gives a foretaste of death, every reunion a hint of the resurrection." - Arthur Schopenhauer _
> 
> The Enterprise crew land on a recently overthrown Utapau to meet with key figures of the Rebel Alliance, Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker. While Han reunites with his friends, new dangers creep closer to them with each moment.

Their struggling was always the most annoying part. They would usually be passed out after the second dose of tranquilizers, first if he had lined up a perfect shot. Unfortunately, as evident by the green twi’leks thrashing on the monitor screen, a perfect shot was not something he was able to get during the mission. Even after he had wrestled her collar on and given her a second shot at point blank. she wasn’t content with sleeping until her new life began. 

Maybe she was hoping against all reason that she would find a way out of her chains, surely an opportunity would arise if only she was just able to move just an inch further from the steel collar around her throat. 

But all he had left for her for the trip was a packet of water, unless she knew how to craft a key out of that or the steel floor, she’d only be bruising her neck until they got to Jabba’s Palace.

She reached one hand up into the air, looking directly into the black mirror of the camera, she was struggling to bring herself to scream it,probably trying to hold onto the last bit of pride like all the others. He turned off the security monitor before they could make the cry for help.

Bobba Fett activated another one of his monitors on his dashboard, and pulled up his dossier files. Oola had been captured, needed to send a note to Jabba to start requesting more assassinations. Maybe he’d get lucky with this next job however, an order from Lord Vader for Luke Skywalker and some woman named Deanna Troi. 

For the farm boy he was at least able to get some information; spent his life living in the deserts of Tatooine, would’ve been destined to be a moisture farmer for his entire life most likely or joined the Imperial Academy if he didn’t get radicalized at some point and decide to join the Rebel Alliance. Details were hazy on his family history and how exactly Luke went from farming for water to being able to blow up the Empire’s most important weapon in the galaxy. 

It was probably just a lucky shot, if you throw enough amateurs in an area and one of them was sure to hit something. But there were some disturbing rumors flowing through the channels, talk was that he had destroyed the Death Star without his targeting computer even on. Likely just propaganda from the Rebel Alliance, but if it wasn’t … he’d have to remember to add some gas rockets.

Deanna Troi however, was a completely different matter. No home planet, no family history, there wasn’t even any reference photo to go off of for her. All Vader had given him was a short description of her appearance and uniform, told him that she was a woman with potential for the Empire, that she was currently a member of some new organization called “Starfleet” and that if she couldn’t be captured alive she needed to be eliminated. Disintegration preferred.

With that little information, Fett was beginning to think it may be safer to lay traps, maybe plant a bomb on her ship. As long as the ship wasn’t too big, or her room was easy to find, it shouldn’t be too big of a task, there wasn’t a ship in the galaxy he didn’t know his way around. 

He checked the time, only a few hours until he reached Jabba’s palace, and then had to head to Utapau for his next mission. There was talk of sightings of Skywalker on the planet, he must’ve been busy helping the Rebels take control. All for the better, it was easier to catch a target that was celebrating.

Fett turned the monitor back on and saw the twi’lek woman once again, now resigned quietly into a corner of the room. Her face tucked in between her knees, she had finally accepted what would happen to her. 

Fett let out a sigh and got out of his cockpit chair, walking into the center of the room and opening a latch in the floor. He grabbed a canister of bantha jerky and a soft blanket he’d been given as a reward made of tauntaun fur with a lining of porg feathers. Just because her life was about to get worse didn’t mean it couldn’t be comfortable for a moment.

* * *

"Alright, ease us in. We're going to have to take this one steady if we don't want to lose a few windows, or worse …." Riker said as he watched Data orchestrate the Enterprise’s landing through one of the narrow chasms of Utapau.

They had done a few flythroughs around the landing zone, even considered landing on the surface and getting mechanics to come up to the surface while they teleported down, but it was no use. After the battle, people were too busy cleaning up to try and make a near impossible journey to the inhospitable surface of the planet just to make repairs for strangers on a ship type they’d never even heard of before, at least that’s what Luke relayed to them from Leia.

The planet was plagued with tsunamis, cyclones, and humidity that could have someone drowning in their own breath before they were thrown asunder by a hurricane. All of the storms and seismic activity had resulted in a society living in sinkholes, one of which they now had the displeasure of piloting through.

“You know, they’ve really expanded these holes over the last few decades. When I was a kid, you’d be lucky to fit a ship halfa this size through here,” Han said.

Riker glanced over to Han and said, “Well, they could’ve given it a few more meters,” before darting his attention back to the ship’s navigation.

“I’ve never had much trouble getting through here though, could cruise the Falcon in here with my eyes closed. You know, I think it might not be too much of a bad idea to let me give this ship a whirl sometime,” Han said to Riker.

Riker looked at Han’s smirk, gave him a blink, and said, “Now why in the world would I do something like that to my crew?”

“Hey, I’m just giving you an idea to take up,” Han said as he put his hands in front of himself, trying to deter some of Riker’s withering stare. “I know the inner core and outer rim like the back of my hand, any time you need to get into or out of a place, I can have you there as fast as this ship could go.” As Han finished the sentence, he had to remind himself to keep a strong face, all of this time chugging through the galaxy without the Falcon was starting to get to him.

“I’ll …. Consider the proposition,” Riker said.

Not like he could call upon Data for every close maneuver they had to make, he belonged on Operations. Plus with all of the bizarre technology and just the sheer existence of the Force, what other anomalies could be waiting for them? It would be easy to give Han the reins and let him steer the ship but Han was … Han. 

Riker had met plenty of people like Han before, hell, he knew he'd been like Han himself back in his academy days. Chances were he’d take the more dangerous route if it would have a more interesting story afterwards, but they had thousands of people to protect aboard the Enterprise. Risking all of their lives for glory wasn’t something he was going to happily jump to, but with the way things were going, it was unfortunately an option.

The ship squeezed onto the landing pad like an elephant elephant trying to squeeze into a kiddie pool. Han had made a special request to Luke to clear out the landing pad of any other ships, which being merely days after a full scale revolution, was a logistical nightmare for the rebels that Riker would now make sure to thank them enthusiastically for. 

With the ship landed in place, Riker took a breath. Picard had already set them well on their first diplomatic effort into this galaxy, or as well as he could’ve given the circumstances. Now setting the stage for cross galactic relations between Starfleet and the Rebel Alliance fell entirely on Riker himself, a mission he had to reassure himself that he would succeed at. If Han was anything to go by, they would be an easy going group who could use Starfleets help with not just the Enterprise’s firepower, but maybe even some formality and structure to their ranks.

However, they would be able to tell that the Enterprise crew needed them and not necessarily the other way around. Han had been telling them tales during their voyage about how the Empire’s iron grasp stretched across the cosmos; if a planet had a name, there was a chance the Empire controlled it, had controlled it, or was currently fighting for it.

There wasn’t much to be gained from worrying himself in knots over it though. He was captain of the Enterprise now, he’d saved Picard from the Borg and he’d guided them this far with only a few hiccups. It was time to take charge again and ensure that his crew got back to their galaxy safe and sound.

“Away Team shall consist of myself and Lts. Data and Troi. Geordie, I want you working with the engineers helping to rebuild our ship to learn more about their technology. We’re not going to be going airborne anytime soon, so Worf I’ll need you to keep watch over the ship while we’re gone. Are we all ready?” Riker said.

Worf took a moment to stop observing each other’s weapons with Chewie, and turned his attention to Riker. “Affirmative, Captain,” he said as he averted his gaze from the scope of the wookie’s bowcaster, and traded it back to him for his phaser. 

As the confirmations came in from everyone, Riker made one last addition, “Doctor Crusher, since both Data and I will be gone, that leaves you in charge. I apologize for thrusting this on you with your current workload, but I know I can count on you.”

Doctor Crusher was more focused on getting her readings finished than she was in assuming a leadership position so with a heavy sigh, she made a quick tap to her communicator “There’s some research I really need to get finished about our interaction on Takadonna -- Wesley and Worf’s readings have a few anomalies -- but running the ship for a few hours isn’t anything I can’t handle.”

Riker ran his hand over his beard at the news and looked to Han. “Any known diseases or mutations on Takadonna?” he asked.

With a shrug Han said, “Not unless you count a blaster to the chest. I’ve never gotten sick from going there.”

Riker nodded, no useful information whatsoever. Han was a native to this galaxy, Troi wasn’t and she was already acting strange, who was to say that the same wasn’t happening to Worf and Wesley?

Now that he finally had a chance to think of it, he regretted not advising Troi to head to medbay immediately after what had happened on the bridge after their battle against the Annihilator and Vader. 

He had been running himself rampant trying to make sure everything was running operationally well on the ship, but he had put one of his best friends to the sideline in the process. Once they met with Leia and Luke, he’d be sure to ask Troi about it.

“Riker, are you alright?” Troi asked.

Riker realized he was hunched over in thought, he probably looked like a poor man’s “The Thinker”. Maybe after this introduction the entire crew could finally get a moment to relax, a nice break on the holodeck was in order.

“Sorry, just thinking about the future.” He looked at the ship's monitor, it’s view changed from a commlink to regular surveillance. There was a man and a woman waiting outside of the ship along with a handful of soldiers behind them, all but the woman staring at the Enterprise with slack jawed amazement. 

Riker noticed the woman first, it was hard not to with how easy on the eyes she was. She had a stern look on her face but a dignified poise as she stood with her hands clasped together in front of her. The grey and white military fatigues with a beige jacket was a look that was hard to pull off, but Riker thought she did it exceptionally, with the blaster pistol at her side being a strong accessory choice. A strand of hair dropped in front of her face and she blew it away, then quickly patted it down in place, right in between her two buns of hair. It was obvious from glancing at the two that she was the one in charge, she gave off the same type of commanding presence that Picard did, and it would be his pleasure to get to talk to her first.

The blonde haired young man was wearing the same style of outfit and seemed to have some short metal baton on his hip and a blaster on the other. Odd choice.

It had been so long since Riker had exited the Enterprise from it’s actual ramp that he wished he had a chance to soak it in, but there wasn’t any time for the moment. Military men and women were rushing along to help civilians get their lives back on track, cleaning up damage done to their buildings during the battle, handing out food and water, and helping to bury those who didn’t make it. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, Captain Riker” Leia said as she bowed her head.

Riker bowed his head in return, “The pleasure is mine, Princess Leia.”

“Hey Han!” Luke shouted.

The two ran towards one another and Han gave Luke a hug that lifted him off of the ground.

“How ya doin kid! Chewie was just starting to miss ya,” Han said as Chewie joined in on the hug.

Han turned to Leia and saw a glare cold enough to make ice shiver. "Still upset about our odds at the Oradin Station? Bad odds with a win is still a win princess," Han said.

“Captain Solo, shocked to see you haven’t been lost to a gambling accident or bounty hunter's blaster yet,” Leia said.

“Me? Losing? I didn’t know you had such an overactive imagination, princess,” Han said.

Chewie and Luke quickly made some space away from Han, they knew where this was going.

Riker pointed to the two of them, “I feel I’m missing a story here. Something we can talk about over drinks later?” 

To Han’s surprise, Leia took a breath, turned her attention away from him, and back to Riker as she said, “Sorry about Captain Solo, he always tries to bring people down to his level, but some of us prefer to not be rolling around in the bottom of a garbage heap.”

“That was one time!” Han shot back, quickly earning a confused glance from Riker.

“Drinks sounds like a fine idea, Captain Riker,” Leia said, “I’m very interested to hear about how you saved such an opinionated asset for the Rebel Alliance and got a hold on such an unique ship. Where did you say you were from exactly? Luke said he didn’t happen to catch it from Han earlier,” Leia said.

Riker took a step forward from his crew, past Han, and gave Leia a sly smile, “If I told you you wouldn’t believe me. I’m sure that once we crack open a bottle of some champagne from the ship, you may find it a bit easier to believe though.”

The stew of emotions from everyone around her was beginning to give Troi a headache, and the sleep deprivation wasn’t helping. The exuberant joy in the air was quickly turning sour, Leia was at least bemused by Riker’s antics, but Han was already closing in on them.

It was confirmed to Troi in an instant that some communications could transcend galaxies.

Troi looked at Leia and could already feel Han’s ego take a blow to the gut, the smuggler’s finger already wagging and nostrils flared, raring to get Riker’s attention. But none of that mattered, for with just a sentence the Princess would have Han wishing he had stayed on the ship, if he wasn’t verbally knocked completely on his rear, he would at least have an uphill battle for himself. Leia saw Troi look at her, and with one glance Troi knew in an instant that perhaps even Leia herself thought it would be better if she interjected.

“I agree, I think a drink between our two crews would be a lovely idea,” Troi said.

“Yes, perhaps then I can inform you all of the deciphered information from the archives that Captain Solo requested my help in,” Data added.

Everyone’s attention turned to Data, the android non-pulsed as they stared at him dumbfounded.

“Well why in the world didn’t you open with that?!” Luke said with a grin on his face. “That’s gotta be great news! Well, if it’s good news I guess. What did you find out about the jedi from before the war?”

“Did you make any discoveries about prominent politicians, diplomats -- anyone really -- who could be working behind the scenes as spies or power brokers now?” Leia asked.

“Wait wait wait, hold on, when did this even happen?” Han asked.

“I believe I had completed the task before breakfast but after my work in engineering, approximately from 04:00 to 04:02. Their firewalls were impressive, but nothing impregnable, downloading the sheer quantity of the data across formats from G3-E3 to myself was the hardest part. I thought it best to save such information for when we met with the leadership to see what their decision would be on it,” Data said.

“Alright, well you have to give us at least one thing you found out before drinks. Who even knows how far away that might be?” Luke said.

“Permission to disclose the information?” Data asked both Riker and Leia.

They gave a nod, and Data turned his attention to Luke, “Darth Vader shows up in no records prior to the fall of the Galactic Republic, meaning that because of his capabilities he is likely a fallen jedi of high standing who survived Order 66, the genocide that led to the deaths of nearly all Jedi. Either he was recruited by senator and now Emperor Palpatine or was able to survive the extermination on his own. Granted that the former is more likely than the latter based on Vader’s current standing in the Empire, I believe that the jedi who would most align with the Emperor would have to be an extremely skilled jedi who took some issues with the Jedi Council. The person most clearly fits this description would be Mace Windu.”

Silence fell across them for a moment, with Leia being the one to break it with a sigh as she said, “Alright, I think we’ll take you up on those drinks now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter has arrived! Went through the entire work for the first time in a while to check over typos, grammar, word choice, etc. etc. and can I just say, with as much sincerity as possible, **thank you to everyone who has read up until this point.** Because whoo boy, there were some humdingers of errors in there.
> 
> The most major of which is that somehow in chapter 12 I had swapped N2 and N3 near the end there for absolutely no reason, forgetting that I had gone out of my way to order them N1, N2, N3, so that I could easily go "Boy, Girl, Boy" when trying to remember them quickly.
> 
> Finally I changed the names of the aliens from the Sullust Arc from Dustoves to Dustdoves. At first I thought it would be too corny and told myself to shorten it, but ya know what. It's Star Wars. With Star Trek. I don't think being too campy is anything I'll actually have to worry about.
> 
> Aside from all of that business, I've recently become hooked on playing _Star War Episode I: Podracer_ on the computer, because that's the current state of the world rn, and shockingly, it holds up to the level of hype my memories as a 5 year old have of it.
> 
> See you next time, Space Cowboys,
> 
> \- Faris Beshma
> 
> P.S. If you're looking for a way to kill time, I've been taking some online courses to give me something to do besides playing Podracer. Harvard offers a bunch of free online courses, and the Museum of Modern Art is doing this really great course on documentary photography, although I'm not sure if that's free year round, but not like due dates matter or anything because why would you pay for a course certificate from the MoMa???


	17. Everyone Walks into a Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"It is well to remember that there are five reasons for drinking: the arrival of a friend; one's present or future thirst; the excellence of the wine; or any other reason." - Latin Proverb _

“Surely, you must be joking.” The faces of the jedi council were easy enough to read for Qui-Gon, they all agreed with Master Windu.

“I assure you, this is not a joke. He’s the chosen one, I can see it within him,” Qui-Gon said.

Mace Windu scoffed as he leaned back in his chair. “How? Being a pod racing prodigy doesn’t make one connected to the force, much less the chosen one.”

“Have you even administered any tests on him?” Ki-Adi-Mundi asked.

Qui-Gon knew of the test they were looking for, a screen pointed to the proctor with a series of flashing images that the subject would have to identify without looking at them. “I have not given him any tests yet, but I’ve sensed more midi-chlorians in him than in any lifeform I’ve ever seen before.”

Obi-Wan glanced at his master, the council knew just as well he did that it didn’t matter how many midi-chlorians the boy had. It didn’t matter how naturally gifted in the Force he may’ve been. What mattered was that he was simply too old to adopt the Jedi Code, his life as a slave had conditioned him too thoroughly. No matter what Qui-Gon wanted, Anakin Skywalker would never be a jedi.

Anakin was already looking bored with the whole meeting, standing with arms crossed as he watched the council talk around him. Obi-Wan had instructed him not to speak during the meeting unless Qui-Gon or the council had told him to directly. Luckily, it seemed like Anakin thought this was a waste of everyone’s time, and butting in would be the last thing on his mind.

“In this case, test matter not,” Yoda said, “His life already leads to the dark side. I can sense it in him now, his fear has already led to anger, next his anger to hatred, and hatred to suffering. His future may be unclear, but even now I can see the seeds of bad omens building within him.”

Anakin rolled his eyes as the jedi council nodded in agreement, and Qui-Gon stuck up a finger. “Unless,” Qui-Gon said as Mace Windu and Ki-Adi looked at him as if he was a padawan failing to understand even the concept of the force, “he is guided in the right direction. His life has barely begun, having a hard childhood doesn’t doom him to the darkside.”

Before the council could respond, Qui-Gon added, “I will take Anakin as my padawan, if not to have him as the chosen one, then to at least stop someone with obvious potential from falling to the path of the dark side. I know the Jedi Code is strong enough to help him.” He had to struggle to hold in his smirk, it was a trick he had always seen his former master, Dooku, use. If you cited the Jedi Code as a reason for something needing to happen, they were much less likely to dismiss it, lest they say the code was wrong.

“An apprentice you have, Qui-Gon. It is impossible to take on a second,” Yoda said.

“Obi-Wan is already prepared for the trials. He is headstrong and has much to learn of the Living Force, but he is capable and ready. I have nothing left to teach him,” Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan wished he had been informed of this. He gave Qui-Gon a sideways look, but he was met with a placid look from his master.

“Skywalker’s fate will be discussed later,” Yoda said.

“Now is not the time to worry about taking on new apprentices,” Master Windu said as he leaned forward in his chair. “The Senate is voting for a new Supreme Councillor and Queen Amidala is returning home, which will put pressure on the Federation, and could widen the confrontation.”

“And draw out the Queen’s attacker,” Ki-Adi said.

Qui-Gon needed no reminder of the importance of defeating this new enemy. With the figure’s terrifying agility and capability with the force, Qui-Gon had just barely managed to fight off his attacker while the queen had gotten to safety, it was very possible that the Sith were returning. Whether the Jedi wanted to acknowledge it or not, it was a reality he would be certain to put an end to.

“Go to Naboo with the Queen and find out the identity of the dark warrior. This is the clue we need to unravel the conspiracy of the Sith,” Mace Windu said.

“Understood, the three of us will be on our way to Naboo,” Qui-Gon said.

“Take the boy, but do not train him!” Qui-Gon had been a padawan the last time Yoda had given him such a stern look.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine without the training,” Anakin said. “While you’ve been chasing at ghosts and been fighting as the Republic’s hounds, I’ve been keeping myself alive and my friends and family safe underneath a slave master’s heel. The last thing I need is for the ‘heroes’ who never came to Tatooine to try and protect me now.”

Everyone was in a stunned silence, so Anakin decided now would be the best time to leave. “Well you can all go back to talking around me now. I believe we have a queen to protect.”

Qui-Gon gave a bow of respect and said with a smile, “Well I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that I may teach him manners on the ride.” He then put his hands on Obi-Wan and Anakin’s shoulders and began ushering them out of the room.

“May the force be with you,” Yoda said, and studied the trio carefully as they headed out the door.

* * *

A loud pair of bangs hit Picard’s door, shocking him out of his reading like someone had just ripped the holopad out of his hand. It seemed his review of Order 66 would have to wait until after he had dealt with his guest.

The former Starfleet Captain walked over to his door and activated the porthole screen on the wall next to the door, placing his hand underneath it to turn it on. 

When he saw the familiar figure on the screen, he only made a sigh.

“Picard, open up. I haven’t got all night to be waiting here on you,” the voice on the other end said. 

“Phasma,” Picard said as he opened the door. “To what do I have the pleasure of seeing you this evening?” her not just barging into his room and threatening to assault him was an improvement, but the barely concealed frown on his face made it obvious how he felt about the visit.

“Well we’ve had our first successful mission as a team. Drinks are in order,” Phasma said plainly.

Picard raised his eyebrows at the proposition. “Drinks? I never took you as the .... celebratory type.”

“It’s simply protocol,” Phasma stated. “Pre-Death Star this would’ve never even been a concern, but Tagge’s been trying to initiate more squad related bonding since the incident. So now, we drink.”

Picard looked at her for a second and cocked his head, something was wrong. The only thing that had changed from their mission earlier in the day was that she had cleaned the dust and dirt off of her armor. “We’re going to drink… and you’re wearing full combat gear from the mission?”

“I’ll remove my helmet once we arrive at the bar. There’s no need to go breaking protocol twice a day,” Phasma said. After a long pause between the two of them, Phasma added, “That’s a joke. Do they not have those where you’re from?”

“Jokes usually work when they're funny,” Picard said as he craned his head back at his room and looked to the clock above his head. “I didn’t usually do drinks with my team on my ship, so you can carry on without me. You understand of course, best to keep from seeming too familiar with your crew.”

Phasma took a step forward through the doorway, bumping into Picard as he was forced to step back. “I don’t. We soldiers have to live together, fight together, die together. I’m not going to waste my time thinking I’m better than them. You may be a ‘scientist’ but as long as you’re with me and my team, you’ll be treated the same as anyone else.”

Noting that Phasma earnestly meant that with all of the positive and negative connotations that carried, he nodded his head. This wasn’t going anywhere, so best to get on with it before he was dragged to the bar covered in more bruises than he already had.

“You’re joking, right?” N1 asked, stupefied by what he was hearing. Or, at least he used to be N1, he had told his squad his true name, and that was the name that would stick with him for the rest of his time on the _Annihilator_.

“No, Davis, I’m not. For a doctor you’re real shit at diagnosing people’s behaviors,” N3 said.

“I mean c’monnnn,” N2 said, “That’s just … it’s too much of an aptronym.”

Both Davis and N3 gave N2 a look.

N2 shrugged. “I read books while I was charting stars and laying down hyperlanes before I joined. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Well, Loza,” N3 said as he looked at N2, “Some names just fit to life.”

“Ah, the tradition is going well then I presume,” Phasma said as she and Picard pulled up chairs at the table. “Don’t all go making fun of Enthree now, I still get crap for my first name to this day from the rest of the Death troopers.” 

“That being?” Picard asked.

Phasma took off her helmet and lightly bopped Picard on the forehead with it. Picard was just glad it was an improvement from the headbutting.

“Get yourself a drink. Now before we get too into the drinking, I need a status update from you, Enthree; how’ve you been since Sullust?” Phasma asked.

Loza sighed as Phasma put her helmet under her arm and Enthree seemed to be straining himself with hyperdrive calculations in his head trying to think of an answer to the question. “I go out of the way to smuggle a dagger with my daily, and this bloke upstages me. The nerve of some people,” she said lazily jabbing a thumb at Enthree.

Enthree pulled at his bodyglove around his neck and leaned forward so that his teammates could see down his shirt. They didn’t see any skin on his neck, only a sleek strip of stones as grey as the surface of Sullust.

“Is this what our mission was for?” Enthree said boredly.

“Do you feel like you could stop any resisting Jedi?” Phasma asked. 

Any indication of their actual plan to kill Lord Vader could turn disastrous quickly. There was no telling what type of sycophants were on board, trying to get closer to Vader or at least ingratiate themselves from getting cut down by a saber for the slightest mistake.

“I always have,” Enthree said with a smirk, “now I just feel better than a man who was blown into the sky and had dislodged ribs, heals me like a charm. Also it’s been giving me some weird dreams when I tried to take a nap earlier, but what medicine doesn’t?”

“What are the dreams about?” Picard asked. “For research purposes of course.”

His strange dreams of the machines rising through the earth and screaming through the voids of space was still etched into his mind. He wasn’t one for superstition, but if this armor was specifically created to defeat people using the Force, maybe it had some unknown side effects on Enthree.

Enthree gave him a bemused smile as he put his chin in his palm, he obviously thought the concern was a waste. “Just birds talking in a circle around me. Pretty annoying to be honest.”

“Have you run into any limitations? In fact, how did you come about that armor in the first place?” Picard asked.

“Well,” Enthree said, ”let's answer the first and see if that gets us to the second. First round is on me.” 

* * *

“After confronting Palpatine his body was never found and there were no records of his death. However I was able to find a record verifying the Chancellor’s window had been shattered and after cross referencing articles on the holonet with G3-E3, I feel it’s safe to presume that the one falling out of the window was Mace Windu. The other Jedi that were with him have already been identified as dead, leaving him the only one accounted for.” Waiting for everyone to get settled into their drinks before unloading on someone was a practice Data had never quite gotten the grasp of.

Although Data had no need for a drink, Riker had gotten a gin and tonic which Leia matched him on. Han had already taught Guinean how to make a good Correllian Sour and started happily sipping away at it the moment it hit the table. Troi knew she had to do her best to keep her senses healthy with the lack of sleep and the fluctuations in her natural ability, so she ordered a club soda. When Luke asked for whatever Guinan thought was the best, she gave him a knowing smile and poured him a tall glass of Altair Water.

“So he got blown out of a window? From the top of a building on Coruscant?” Leia could only give the android a confused look, the droid must’ve blown a processor. “You know how high up those go, right? Just as likely to survive a fall from the top of Cloud City.”

“There are no records of a Jedi ever dying from just a fall in the Coruscant Archives,” Data said. “Jocasta Nu made an effort to preserve all available Jedi deaths as well as their training, and it seemed they had counter measures for just this instance.”

Luke’s eyebrows raised at the name. “Jocasta Nu?” He asked as he put down the drink he was slowly and cautiously nursing.

“The head archivist of Coruscant and a Jedi Master,” Data said. 

“Wow, I … never really got time to learn about the jedi,” Luke said with a tinge of sadness in his voice. “With Ben gone, I guess I’m one of the last Jedi, but not like I have a teacher or anything.”

“That can be altered,” Data said.

Luke’s face scrunched in confusion, and Riker saw this as a good moment to interject before their meeting got too derailed. “The holodeck. If you think that Mace Windu was Darth Vader, then --”

“Then training to fight Mace Windu is your best bet against Vader,” Han said. “I got a bad feeling that you two are going to meet again, could be worth a shot.”

“If the gamble that Mace is Vader is true,” Leia said.

“Oh come on,” Luke said as a grin was beginning to form on his face. “Holodeck is something like a hologram right? The opportunity to train with recreations of Jedi masters -- Vader being Mace or not, this is amazing!”

Leia took a sip of her drink and put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “So is helping the resistance. There’s a war to fight, and we need you doing more than fighting training dummies in a room. Hell, there’s not much time left before we’re scheduled to help with some base preparations and drills on Hoth, so not like we have much time to spare as is.”

“Well regardless of what you decide, the holodeck is open for all of you,” Riker said with a smile. “We use it for training simulations every now and again, and there are 16 of them on the ship, so it wouldn't be a problem for us at all. In fact I think it’s the least we can do since you’ve offered to have so many of your mechanics come onboard to help get our ship in working order.”

Leia took a moment to consider the idea, then said, “Well that is an interesting proposition, Captain Riker, but I guess I should expect the interesting from another galaxy. If we’re able to upload old Jedi Masters then we should also be able to upload footage of previous battles and practice with those. Correct? What about specific generals, admirals, officers, anything that could show them any strategic strengths and weaknesses they had?”

The cunning, the ingenuity, Riker was beginning to understand why this woman was one of the main leaders of the Rebel Alliance.

“That’ll be easy, just provide us with the resources and we’ll be happy to add it into our databases,” Rike said.

“Speaking of Jedi, have you two ever heard of Zelloa Khapur or the Force Faithful?” Troi asked.

It felt a little out of the blue, but Troi knew she had to ask them about it. The same strange energy she had felt from both Vader and Zelloa, she now felt from these two. Was this the Force?

Luke was happily drinking his water when he paused at the name, put the glass down. “...Who? Are they some sort of Jedi sect?” He stirred his drink for a second and then added on, “This alcohol is amazing by the way, how do you make it so clear?”

“You’ve never heard of the gang of mice with one lion?” Han said to Luke with a grin as he leaned back in his chair.

“Is that how you describe having your mind altered at the drop of a hat?” Troi asked.

“By one of them,” Han said nonchalantly. “I bet the rest just stayed on their ship and hoped we wouldn’t decide to have a chat with them, otherwise they would’ve hopped right into the party.”

“You bet?” Leia asked with a raised brow. “For all that means there could’ve been a hundred Jedi onboard pointing and laughing at having your mind turned to mush.”

“You really think one wizard in a robe can turn a mind this sharp into mush?” Han said as he tapped his temple.

“You’re right,” Leia said. “They would need something to start with.”

Before the two could continue bickering, Riker cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Sorry, but I believe we’re getting a little off track here,” Riker said.

“My apologies, sometimes our group can be a little …” Leia always hated moments like this, having to apologize for a diplomatic slight. She had trained her whole life for talks like this, but her fiery tongue had always put her into spots like this for better or worse, and not like that damned nerfherder was helping.

“Debative,” Luke added with a smile. His two friends were thankfully able to stop from rolling their eyes at the statement.

“Counselor Troi,” Leia said. “The Force Faithful are a part of the Rebel Alliance, a very small one, but one nonetheless. I’ve heard that they have less than fifty total members, making them miniscule in comparison to the Monarchist Federation, or the Senate Restorationist, but each of them are an important part in forming the alliance. What makes you ask us about them?”

“I was thinking that Luke may know more about them, given how excited he was about the Jedi,” Troi said as she turned her attention to Luke.

“Well if Zelloa is able to use the Force, I think I should know them,” Luke said. “Here I was thinking this was gonna be a bunch of politics talk, but turns out there’s something for me too!”

Luke was grinning ear to ear, he had never really been much for political machinations. Good guys were good, bad guys were bad, no need to complicate it anymore than that. Bad guys were trying to kill him and his friends, so anything that could help would be worthwhile, and he seemed to have just hit the goldmine.

“I wouldn’t consider meeting Zelloa a good proposition,” Troi said. “It’s a sense I get from them, not necessarily malice but a singular drive. Their group only cares about people with the Force. It was even a theme in the holopad that they gave me, something about the ‘Destiny of those in the Force is to serve the Force,’ but no mention of helping other people. They didn’t even offer to help with the refugees on Takodana.”

Luke’s grin faded away as he took a hearty sip of his water. “What a scumbag. The Force is for helping people, what sort of person would just go around leaving people to die while having the power to stop it?”

* * *

“Well we’ll have to find a Jedi to test to see if it works then,” Phasma said as Enthree finished his story of how he killed the Dustdove who was wearing the armor and it forcefully attached itself to him.

Picard saw the malicious grin grow across Enthree’s face like a snake uncoiling to strike. That man had been waiting to hear an excuse to test out whatever this strange new device was capable of.

“Are we testing to the death or testing until the results are collected?” Picard asked.

Enthree’s grin vanished as quickly as it came. “The two don’t have to be exclusive.”

“But one is vastly more preferable to the other,” Picard said.

Enthree scoffed and took a swig of his beer and made a disgruntled grunt, placing the drink back down on the table with soft thud.

Picard knew it, they were still soldiers that respected rank, and he outranked them. Unless Plasma spoke above him on the matter, they would do their best to stay on his good side.

The group turned to small talk as they drank, catching up with one another on what had occurred since they had been sent out. After the first round of drinks had been finished, Picard was glad to learn that Tagge had sent Vader on some goose chase to find some rebels on Jakku. He may’ve been powerful enough to kill everyone on the ship with barely a thought, but he still had to follow the chain of command.

Second round in and Picard discovered that their had been an uprising on Utapau, right before Andres’ squad had been sent out to gather something called a holocron.

It wasn’t until the third round of drinks that Picard and Phasma explained what happened on their mission. After a couple of glances at one another, they came to an unspoken understanding that Nien Nunb had been killed 

“Do you think they’re going to be alright? Andres I mean,” Davis asked as he tried to hold down the case of hiccups he was getting..

“The man jumped into a sarlaac because his lunch canister dropped in there, he’s fine,” Phasma said flatly.

Davis and Loza both let out a laugh. “I didn’t really think you had that type of dry wit,” Loza said as she struggled to keep her glass steady, spilling some of her lager onto the floor as she regained her composure.

Phasma blinked. “I wasn’t joking.”

Four drinks in, and Picard had learned that Rwookrrorro White Wine was much, much stronger than anything he had had on his vineyard. With each blink he felt the saturation of colors getting more drastic and realized that getting absolutely plastered wasn’t probably the best idea with a group of soldiers he was trying to conceal his true identity from.

“Well it’s been a pleasure drinking with you all,” Picard said as he stood up.

As he rose up, he saw a screen behind the bartender was playing some sort of video, he only needed a brief moment of context to know what it was. A procedural drama!

There was of course the brave hearted, trench coat wearing, cool talking, barrel chested man interrogating the alien who was on the verge of cracking. The detective's partner was a short frail looking man with finely combed coif of hair playing the role of the good cop. No holodeck, and nothing but propaganda to parse through, this was beginning to look like a good show.

Davis looked to the holoscreen and then to Picard, his eyes immediately lighting up. “Doctor Picard, you watch Order of the Law too?! God I love Wup and Tup so much!” He said as he pointed to the two detectives on the screen. “They’re the best husbands and best detectives on the show, did you see the one about the Wookie sleeper cells the other night?” 

Picard felt a sobering sense come over him. Husbands? Typically fascists weren’t a fan of that type of thing, and none of the propaganda he was reading had mentioned it, but it only made sense. If they hated everything that wasn’t human, they were left with no choice but to love everything that was.

“See that pause?” Loza said as Picard was staring into space in thought. “That’s the face of a man who doesn’t want to break your poor heart and tell you that Hooper and Cirelia are the best pair on the show.”

Enthree stirred his drink and boredly said, “I prefer to just watch it for the chase scenes.” 

By the sounds of disgust Davis and Loza made, it was easy to tell that this wasn’t unexpected, but was a disappointing choice.

If they had to admit that they loved everything about humanity, then getting them to lessen the extremity of their stances should be as simple as getting them to see the humanity in alien species. Picard wanted to bring his palm to his face over how long it took him to come to such a simple idea, if Counselor Troi was here she probably would’ve figured it out after knowing them for five minutes.

Picard realized he was spending far too much time standing around, and double tapped the table with his knuckles. 

“Sorry, got lost in a train of thought for a moment there,” Picard said. “I’ll be heading to bed now, see you all in the morning.”

Phasma stuck two fingers in the air to grab Picard’s attention before he turned away. “Need some help getting to your room, Doctor?” 

Picard couldn’t help but smile. Vader wasn’t on the ship, so he was positive he would be fine. He gave Phasma a thumbs up, carefully walked into the elevator, and then stumbled into his bed.

Picard tossed and turned in his bed, but he couldn’t find any sleep, but he couldn’t find a comfortable position. Too hot, too cold, couldn’t sleep on his face, not on his sides, he had forgotten how listless drinking made him, and what a place to remember.

He sighed and tried to get comfortable once more, but something was definitely wrong. Had his mattress always been this lumpy? With how hectic the last few days were, maybe he just hadn’t noticed, but it felt like something was underneath his mattress, so he slinked out of the bed and lifted it with one arm while sticking the other underneath.

Through the dark of the room he couldn’t see anything, but as he felt around the steel slab underneath the mattress, one piece of metal was like a small divot no more than a few centimeters high, going directly into the center of the mattress. Odder yet, it moved when he grabbed it.

“Lights on,” Picard said, and the room was filled with a blinding white light.

Once his vision adjusted, he saw that it was a small rectangular slab of metal no bigger than a phaser. There was a biometric scanner on the front of it serving as a lock, on the back was an engraved tropical looking flower, and underneath it was written “For, Bright.”

Knowing that something was definitely off about the whole thing, but also feeling a case of the spins coming on, Picard let out a heavy sigh as he placed the metal container back into place. This wasn’t a mystery he was going to find out at the current moment, but at least he had a good guess as to who Bright was.

* * *

Boba stepped out of _Slave I_ and surveilled his surroundings. The fierce winds blew at him so hard that he made sure to keep his foot firm with each step, carefully wedging his boots into the soil with each movement. As he scanned the perimeter while holding onto his billowing cape to keep it out of the way, it became clear that he would have to go with his first plan. 

Laying a trap on the surface for when Luke or Deanna left would be near impossible, he was going to have to go down and grab them out of the depths of Utapau and drag them back up. 

He’d need to make a rendezvous plan though, as leaving the exact same way he would come in would be difficult, even if it was an option. Just looking down into the sinkhole and seeing the top of the Enterprise miles beneath him through his tactical visor, he could tell it would be a tough fit and one that would be incredibly obvious.

He was able to see that there were some areas on the sides of the sinkhole that were deeper than others. He could plant his ship on the side of the wall with its cloaking set to his activation, climb down when things seemed quiet, find and subdue the two of them, find an alternative exit, and while they were busy searching the planet to find him he would activate the cloak to put his ship off radar and drop the the two of them in.

Lord Vader, he noted, was a very lucky man to have an endless supply of Empire funds to use.

As Boba walked back into his ship, he heard a loud thunk followed by a hissing from the sky, as if a piece of machinery had just exploded above him.When he turned his head up, he saw that a mass of ships wielded together had just appeared in the sky that, judging by the smoke cloud coming out of it, had just blown their cloaking device. 

Boba quickly opened the door to his ship, ready to get on the defense in case it was some sort of counter attack. As he got to his pilot chair he started up his switch as if it was second nature, pulling levers and putting security sequences without looking, his attention turned entirely to the ship.

Before he could even finish starting his ship, he saw a metal hatch open from the bottom of the floating sphere, then a grey figure came falling out of the hatch head first.

Boba kept his hand paused on the ignition button as he saw the figure dive into the sinkhole and the ship he fell out slowly raise higher and higher into the sky.

It seemed now was the perfect time to put his plan into motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone hope you're doing well considering the state of ... everything right now. If you're black like I am and currently live in the US be sure to give yourself time off from social media, because at this point it's [ getting pretty damn bad](https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2020/06/social-media-george-floyd-racial-trauma-dsm.html). If any of you feel too stressed out to work on things you find enjoyable, it's absolutely fine, things happen in life that sometimes make it hard for us to do the things we actually want to do. 
> 
> I was barely even able to really do anything period on Monday, and am frankly shocked that this chapter got out in any publishable quality today. I just want all y'all to know that giving yourself time process is important and that I love y'all.
> 
> -Best regards,
> 
> Faris Beshma 
> 
> P.S. If you need something completely unrelated to everything to binge on, here's a book review youtuber I've been getting hooked on lately.


	18. It's a Trap!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do a man in a janitors closet, a man in simulation, and somebody jumping on a roof all have in common? Let's find out.

The soldier had gone through the same route in the _ Annihilator’s _ corridors three times now. First to check the coast was clear, second to divert anyone in their way, and third for one last check. Shifts would be rotating in a few minutes, and the few guards that had been in place were now busy chasing an imaginary stowaway that they had told them about. He was surprised they hadn’t turned him away from the stench of beer coming off of him, but maybe that had just made his performance more earnest.

It was now or never, and this was one of the few rooms with no surveillance on the ship and where no mouse droids would come to interrupt. After squeezing himself into the room full of mops and buckets, they took their helmet off of their head and let their dark black hair fall to their shoulders.

As he knelt down he activated his communicator, where a blue hologram appeared of a robed figure.

“You’re late,” The hologram said with a snarl.

He bowed his head as he spoke, “I am sorry my master, I had to make sure to evade detection.” 

“Could you not just have displaced them with the power of the dark side, or are you getting weak as you play pretend?” The holograms snarl was changing to a wicked and toothy smirk, but the soldier knew better than to challenge him on it. He had already learned that lesson.

“I have brought success from Sullust, the Dustdove armor has been recovered,” Enthree said.

“Excellent, and of this Captain Picard?” The figure asked.

“I apologize, my master, he is not one who divulges much of himself. Though I have learned that he has a soft heart for the other races.” Enthree said as he bowed his head deeply.

He dared to look up for just a moment, and saw that the figures smirk had turned into a deep frown. “The last bastion of the weak, a pity,” they said, “It would have been lovely to have another ally. Make sure he sees his end at the next opportunity. That is all.” 

“M-master I’m sorry but, the armor it …” As Enthree looked at Emperor Palpatine, seeing the murderous gaze he was receiving, he could feel his hand begin to shake, and the old scars aching underneath his armor. “It speaks to me.”

The transmission ended. Once Enthree was able to get the trembling in his hand to stop, he put his communicator away, put his helmet back on, and exited the room.

Luke walked through the halls of the _Enterprise_ in awe, gawking at every computer and control panel that he laid his eyes on as he was guided to the holodeck. The last time he had been this blown away was when he had gotten on _the Millenium Falcon_ for the first time.

With all of the amenities it seemed more like a pleasure ship than something that could go toe to toe with a Super Star Destroyer, but Han had said he saw it with his own two eyes, so it had to be kinda sorta true in some way.

“Here’s the holodeck, where it seems that our most eager visitor will be spending the next few minutes,” Riker said as he gave a friendly smile to Luke.

Leia turned to her friend with a quizzical look on her face as he waited in front of the door, stretching his arms above his head as if he was preparing for some sort of of fight. “Luke, are you sure about this? I mean we haven’t even gotten to their Command Bridge or anything yet, this could wait,” she said.

“Positive. Besides, when am I ever gonna be giving commands on a bridge anyways? Might as well get all the important things we can when we can,” Luke said as he watched Data start typing away on the computer next to the door.

Leia understood where he was coming from, they were on a tight schedule and did need to gather as much intel and assistance as possible before then. However, that didn’t mean she agreed with hopping into the most seemingly dangerous situation possible as soon as it presented itself. The only reassurance she had that these Starfleet people were even on their side was that they had spent all this time with Han and not shot him out of an airlock yet.

“Are you sure this is completely safe? Has anyone ever died or gotten injured on the holodeck?” Leia asked.

Riker, Data, and Troi all looked at each other for a moment, then looked to Leia.

“Not unless the safety protocols are turned off,” Riker said.

“Or unless the holodeck is specifically asked to invent a threat vastly outside of their normal parameters, such as being able to destroy the ship,” Data added.

“Why in the hell would anyone do that?!” Leia asked.

“We wanted to see if a famous villain could defeat _me_ and not their canonical counterpart,” Data said. “Syntax is very important.”

“Alright so I just tell Mace to treat me like a student or a friendly rival, easy,” Luke said.

“Well there are a few more considerations,” Troi said, “Ionic storms, interference with the machine, or it overheating from run time can all lead to anomalies within it, but I don’t think we’re at risk for any of those happening.”

“Besides if anything goes wrong, Luke, you’ll just be stuck getting in more practice before we get the door open,” Han said. “Think of it as being stuck in after temple detention.”

Leia inhaled sharply through her nose, these two knuckleheads would be the death of her. The only positive was that at least Luke was testing the holodeck with something relatively harmless, she could use whatever information he gathered to decide whether or not the machine was worth using for the Rebel Alliance.

“The upload is complete, you may now enter the holodeck,” Data said. “If you need to make any alterations, simply say, ‘Computer’ followed by what you want to be changed.”

“Thanks, Data,” Luke said as he patted the android on the shoulder. As the android nodded back at him, Luke had already jumped headfirst by himself into the holodeck.

“Alright, now this is something else,” Luke said as he looked at the black grid with green lines stretched out around him. Hard to think this would all just turn into a weird blue hue of buildings and people in a moment.

“Computer, take me to the Jedi Temple of Coruscant, back before the Empire had taken over” Luke said.

He found himself standing in the center of a long hallway, flanked to his sides by massive statues of Jedi Masters he had never seen or heard of before. Hundreds of younglings were running through the building, as groups of padawans walked by talking to one another, bickering over which lightsaber form was the best.

To his left he could see a room of younglings training to levitate blocks. A patient old Talz with shedding gray hair on his robes was running their hand through the bald spot forming on the top of their head as they watched their pupils. The Talz thrust out a hand, using the Force to stop the children who had picked up on the lesson from throwing their blocks at the other younglings.

To his right, he saw a two story room full of bookshelves, the blue glow from the holopads illuminating the room almost as much as the ceiling lights. In front of each of the bookshelves were bronze busts of what Luke could only guess were also Jedi Masters. 

There was a woman with grey hair organizing some of the holopads, which Luke thought gave her a pretty good chance of being Jocasta Nu. He was thinking of going over to chat with her for a moment, when he was knocked out of his train of thought by some togruta girl nearly toppling him over as they ran into him at full speed.

“Sorry!” The togruta shouted as they kept on running past Luke.

He didn’t get a good look at the girl, only getting a glance at her face before she had already picked up into a full on sprint. 

“Snips, Come on! We’re going to be late!” said a voice from behind Luke. He looked back, but Luke couldn’t see who was calling out to this ‘Snips’ person, they were lost in a formation of clone troopers, with only their right arm waving over them. 

Luke thought about investigating the situation, but Leia would have his head if he had told her that he spent his entire time in the holopad just chasing after every random opportunity that arose. Besides, his goal was right in front of him.

Straight in front of him, past all of the monuments, beyond all of the reading materials and wandering students, was a marble staircase leading to the Jedi Council Room. And walking down them was Mace Windu.

“Master Va-- Windu! Master Windu!” Luke shouted as he ran up to the Jedi Master. “I have a request, will you spar with me?” It was at this moment that he wished Obi-Wan had given him a rundown on Jedi etiquette.

“And you are … ?” Mace said as he looked Luke up and down.

Luke looked down and saw that he was wearing all of the traditional Jedi robes, just like Obi-Wan used to wear! When he ran his hand through hair in shock, he noticed he had some weird braid of hair, must’ve been something Data added in for authenticity.

“I’m Skywalker sir, Luke Skywalker,” Luke said.

“Skywalker? Are you related to Anakin Skywalker?” Mace asked with a grimace.

“You know my father?!” Luke nearly leaped into Mace’s personal space at the question, but quickly withheld himself as he saw the stern look on Mace’s face.

“Unless he gave birth to you the moment he was born, I believe we’re speaking of different Skywalkers,” Mace said. If he didn’t know any better, Luke could’ve sworn he saw some relief come over Master Windu’s face.

“Oh, right.” Luke felt stupid for bringing it up, of course his father would be around here, hell from the sounds of it they were about the same age. Wait, that meant that if there was enough time, he could even get to meet his father and Obi-Wan!

“Follow me,” Mace said as he walked off into a long hallway.

Luke quickly followed behind him and excitedly asked, “So we’re going to spar?” 

“Yes, I can spare a quick few rounds. Tell me, have you studied much on the Vapaad Form?” Mace asked.

Luke, having no idea what he was talking about but knew that he had to learn about as much as Darth Vader before he was Vader as he could, said, “Of course, in fact I’m looking to learn it” and followed Mace to the training grounds.

As the two got into their stances at the training grounds, Master Windu said only one thing as he took two practice lightsabers from the wall and tossed one to Luke, “I warn you, I intend to give you a firsthand demonstration.”

* * *

Worf was busy on the Bridge, checking through all of the security cameras on the ship to see if he could find any anomalies. 

Everything so far was going as it should, the visitors from the Rebel Alliance were near him on the Bridge for their tour. Worf had created security teams of two doing surveillance throughout the ship, the most they had to report was that locals seemed interested in the ship.

He would check on the cameras outside of the ship once every few minutes, only to see groups of children oohing and awing at the ship. Worf supposed that this must’ve been a planet that wasn’t visited by ships this large too often, meaning they were still far on the outskirts of the action. A frustration to be so far from the action, but when they next saw the Empire, he knew they would make them pay for what they had already done to their crew.

He didn’t know why he felt it, but he had an urge to check the camera on the roof of the Enterprise. The moment he did, he saw a human dropping towards them, and the ship was hit with a thud so strong it could be felt throughout the ship as the roof camera was knocked out.

“Status Report?” Riker asked as he took his attention away from showing Leia the captain’s chair.

Worf immediately hit his Starfleet pin to send a message to the rest of the core team and to his security forces. “Alert, we have made contact with a humanoid hostile landing on the top of the ship!” Worf swapped to another camera on the exterior of the ship, and saw that the figure was descending. ”They’re going to the ground level, I’m going to investigate!”

He ran to the turbolift, and Leia was first to sprint right behind him, the rest of the group following behind her.

“I have this under control, Princess. I will have this under control in just a moment,” Worf said as he was selecting the floor on the turbolift. 

Leia tapped at her blaster pistol on her side. “Those are my people down there too. Don’t slow me down.”

Worf only nodded at the statement as the turbolift doors closed, and the two groups went on their way to meet whoever it was that had landed on the ship.

Zelloa climbed down from the roof of the Enterprise with grace, sprinting to its edge and jumping off of its side with a front flip. The fall would have been a death sentence for anyone less skilled, if you didn’t die from hitting the concrete, there was the alternative death of missing entirely and falling further down the sinkholes the _Enterprise_ was perched precariously next to. But neither were close to a problem for Zelloa, by dispersing enough Force underneath them, they were able to break up their well aimed fall and land without a scratch.

Zelloa saw two gentlemen in yellow shirts scream in shock as they landed in front of the pair. What a pity it was to not be able to sense anything through the Force, let alone the fact that they had no affinity for the Force whatsoever.

“Excuse me, you two,” Zelloa said as they pointed at the pair, “my ship has been tracking yours since our last encounter. Would you mind bringing me the one known as Deanna Troi, please?”

The two looked to each other and then slowly pulled out their phasers.

“Sorry m-mam but, we’re going to have to ask you to follow us,” one of them said.

Zelloa tsked at the command, a snarl forming on their face. “I’m not a mam or a mister. I’m afraid I cannot follow you onto your ship, but would you please retrieve Deanna Troi?” They could just wave a hand and the two of them would grab Troi, bring her to them, and the two of them could go back to the _Amalgam_ and be off of this planet, but that awful universal constant against progress was rearing its ugly head. Maintaining diplomatic relations.

If they were already parked safely on Utapau, they were at least neutral with the Rebel Alliance. Zelloa would have to be careful to see where exactly they stood to know how much they could get away with.

One of the yellow shirts tapped the pin on their shirt and began whispering into it, but stopped when a staircase unfolded behind them.

“And what do we have the pleasure of this visit for today?” Riker asked with his phaser drawn.

Troi put a hand on his shoulder and Riker looked to her, then back to Zelloa. “After using your powers on our guest last time and admitting to tracking us this time, you’ll understand if I’m a bit wary.” 

“Oh don’t worry, there’s no need for you to be concerned about the tracking at all,” Zelloa said with a smile. “It was merely a side effect of taking our scripture with you.”

“Well I’m sorry for the confusion, Zelloa,” Troi said, “but being tracked is something we prefer that is told to us first.”

“Stalking your allies isn’t a good look for the alliance, any reason in particular that you did this?” Leia asked.

“Because they’re trying to eliminate us. We must make a show of force!” Worf whispered so that Zelloa couldn’t hear, but while Riker gave him a disapproving look, Leia remained neutral.

Worf pulled out his phaser, and Zelloa stuck up a palm. “There will be no need for weapons today. I merely need to talk about the users of the Force aboard your ship. I can already sense there’s more than one of you in your group,” Zelloa said as they looked over Riker, Worf, Data, Troi, Leia, Han, and Chewie.

“None of us are interested I’m afraid. Your offer is appreciated, but you’ll have to go somewhere else,” Troi said.

Zelloa blinked, and then began to move their hand before Han shot at Zelloa and shouted, “Not this time!”

Zelloa froze the blast in place with the Force like a fly caught in a web. “You truly think so little of me as to use the same trick on you twice?” Zelloa asked.

Zelloa was getting annoyed now, they couldn’t return to the sanctuary empty handed. Sure there had been a few small fry like that forisch on Takodana, but what was the point in wasting time finding more of them when beings of such high potential were standing right in front of them?

Zelloa would have to talk them down as diplomatically as possible, there was no need to risk the Force Faithfuls standing with the entirety of the Rebel Alliance, or worse, alienate new recruits. 

As Zelloa opened their mouth to speak, they heard the rumbles of a jetpack over their head.

“Must be my lucky day.” Was the last thing Zelloa heard before a concussive missile exploded between them and the people they were talking to, blowing them all away.

* * *

Luke could feel the sweat building on his brow as Windu hit him with strike after strike with his training saber. 

Left.

Left.

Right.

Overhead. 

Luke was barely able to keep up with the never ending rush of attacks, let alone counterattack.

“Has anyone ever told you you fight like Master Kenobi before?” Mace casually asked as he continued to rain blows down on Luke. “You’ve got his basic stance down, but you still have some of your own touches. They remind me of when I first sparred against Anakin.”

Suddenly a blow was coming low, sweeping at his leg from Luke’s left side. The young jedi swung with all of his might to deflect it and succeeding beyond his wildest hopes, for as the blades clashed, Mace’s went flying from his grasp. 

Luke was quick to pounce on the opening, taking the momentum from his strike to swing in a crescent for Mace’s shoulder, but was cut off as he felt the Jedi Master’s fist sinking into his stomach. As Luke sunk to the ground, he could see that Mace had been holding his lightsaber in mid air the whole time, it had never left his control.

“You fell for the simplest trick of all as well,” Windu asked as he put the lightsaber back on his belt. “That brings our six rounds of practice to a close, six to zero. Tell me, who is your master, Luke? I believe I would’ve known if Master Skywalker had continued the tradition of essentially taking on two Padawans.” 

For safety protocols being on, the holograms sure did feel like they would leave a bruise the next day. The pain from the punch subsided quickly enough, but he felt a sudden uneasy feeling forming inside of him. 

His pulse began racing and for a moment he felt his vision swimming as brief dizziness came over him, as if he had been knocked on his head instead of his stomach. Something was wrong.

“Leia, Han, Chewie are any of you there?” Luke asked into his communicator.

“Have somewhere to be?” Windu asked as he approached Luke.

“Sorry, uh. Computer, pause simulation,” Luke said. He Looked up at Windu, but his stare was still on him, and as he looked past Windu, he saw that the sky was plagued with large black squares of dead pixels.

“I warn you, I intend to give you a firsthand demonstration.”” Mace said as he took a training lightsaber off of the wall, and slid another one over to Luke.

Luke had to do a double take, somehow Master Windu had teleported back to where he was when they had begun sparring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy everyone, hope you're all doing well this week! Week 2 (at least) of me not really knowing how to put in summaries is in effect, so I'm just going the tongue in cheek route. I think if I was more focused on being like "Now this work shall be my ** Magnum ... Opus! **" and actually waited until these chapters were perfect, this and the last chapter would've been one big chapter, but I kind've reached this weird/enlightening state of mind during the end of the Sullust Arc where I was like, "You know what, this is entirely for my own fun and I don't have any editors or people sinking money into this to worry about, so I'm just gonna publish these chapters when I feel good about them." Not always the best for like, structurally speaking, but I am having a blast writing this though which I consider infinitely more important.
> 
> Oh also random Star Trek TNG update on me watching it, I'm almost done with season 5, holy shit Ro is such a cool character.
> 
> Here's ye weekly extra content from me of one of my [favorite soundtracks of all time.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHNjEDhPPGw&list=PL9F2DBBF9C309E1B6)
> 
> Until next time TTFN,
> 
> -Faris Beshma


	19. Malfunction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All human plans [are] subject to ruthless revision by Nature, or Fate, or whatever one preferred to call the powers behind the Universe.” - Arthur C. Clarke _2010: Odyssey Two_
> 
> As the crews deals with the aftermath of an attack from a mysterious figure, first Luke finishes his first training session on the Holodeck.

The world screamed with a vibrating hum that blurred the mind just as hard as it blurred their vision.

Riker tried reaching out in front of himself to get a grip, but his hands were nothing but beige blurs swimming in front of him. When he tried to push himself up from being prone it felt like all of his limbs were asleep, flailing as they tried to escape their slumber. His heart started thumping his body awake like a wardrum as he senses looked into the sky and saw the worst sight of his life; but when he looked into the sky, he could feel his senses slowly coming back to him as he saw the worst sight of his life; A figure in green armor flying in the sky holding a metallic cable that was wrapped around the unconscious body of Deanna Troi.

As the armor clad figure began ascending into the sky, Riker grabbed for his phaser but found nothing where it was supposed to be, but it was pointless regardless. Even if he was able to find his phaser, Troi was just too close to them, any shot was just as likely to hit her as it was the flying figure.

“Come back here dammit!” Was the last thing Riker was able to scream, before the figure’s jetpack roared with power and they blasted out of his sight. 

Riker tried to follow where they went, but he lost them in the combination of the blinding sun and his barely returned vision, one moment he knew where Deanna was, and the next, he didn’t.

“Troi? Troi?!” He shouted into the sky to no response. She was gone, and he had no idea where or why.

His vision and his memory became clear in an instant as his rage began to swell. That figure from the sky must’ve been working with Zelloa to steal Troi!

He turned to where Zelloa had been and saw that they were being grappled by Worf, with Worf pushing them back inch by inch.

Before he did anything though, he needed to make sure everyone else was safe. Riker did a quick take behind him and he saw Leia and Data both laying on the ground, with their arms over the precipice of the landing platform, mere feet from hurdling miles further into the planet.

Leia turned her head back and saw a disorientated Riker looking at her and Data. “Stop gawking and start grabbing!” she shouted.

Riker began with a stumble at first, but was able to get a balanced jog going as he approached them, their situation dawning on him as he got behind the two of them. Each of them were reaching over the edge holding one of Han’s ankles, and Han'was using both of his hands to hold onto one of Chewebacca’s arms. 

Han looked back up, his face red from blood rushing to it, and shouted, “Helping these two pull me up before my arm gets ripped off would be real lovely right about now!” 

“Captain,” Data said to Riker, “I need you to hold onto Captain Han for approximately two seconds as firmly as possible. That most recent blast seemed to have hit you and I the hardest, and I still need to recalibrate my fine motor functions, if I make too dangerous a move from this position I co--” 

“I don’t care what it takes, just do it!” Riker shouted as he squatted down over Data and waved his hand back, then grabbed Han’s ankle with a vice-like grip using both hands and braced as hard as he could.

Data let go of Han and began crawling backwards. If he could hope he would, but that wasn’t in his processing, so he did the only thing he had left, rerunning the scenario in his head as he did it.

He finished crawling backwards; Han and Chewbecca’s combined weight was over four-hundred pounds, an easy weight for him but not two injured humans. He stood up; Riker was sliding at a rapid pace over the edge, and already had one foot over the edge, their screams were echoing down Utapau now. He wrapped his arms around Riker’s waist; a functioning medbay was their greatest asset on this voyage.

Data squeezed Rikers torso and rapidly stepped backwards, pulling up everyone in their group as Riker’s body made one loud pop and the air exited his body.

As Riker slumped to the ground, he pointed at the two members of their team who had first met with Zelloa, their unconscious bodies near the ramp of the ship. He tried to shout, “Help them”   
As his body made one loud wheeze.

* * *

How in the stars was something like this possible? Years of physical training in the sanctuary, being guided through the Force by the elder themself, now they even led their own family ship. And yet, they were being pushed back by this amateur. 

A contest of strength was one thing, Zelloa had never considered themselves to be the brawniest member of their group. In fact, they knew it was because of their shrewd wit and mental capabilities that they had so easily climbed into their position, it was why Zelloa knew they would be the next elder to lead the Force Faithful when their turn came.

But then, that complete novice was able to resist his telepathy through the Force as well.

Regardless, they needed to stop worrying themselves with such matters at a moment like this, as things were going out of Zelloa’s control a parsec a second. 

They remembered learning about them, the mandalorians. Always a nuisance, and now Zelloa had learned why. One moment they were about to recruit Troi after some negotiations with her group, the next Zelloa was fighting them to what this yellow shirted man seemed to want to be the death.

Worf’s blows had started slow and clumsy, probably out of shock from the concussion blast and losing the weapon they were holding, but that was quickly changing. He had stopped trying to grab Zelloa, as he seemed to notice the rhythm of his punches tempo increasing with each blow, and the force behind them increasing exponentially. 

Zelloa would’ve ended the confrontation much quicker if they weren’t in awe of how quickly Worf seemed to be getting the hang of this. It was important to clear the air as quickly as possible, but one had to recognize a work of art when it was staring them right in the face. 

“So,” Zelloa asked as they weaved around another punch, “when did you realize you had such potential?” 

The only response was the snarl on Worf’s face growing larger, his rain of blows continuing as he clasped his hands together and swung both of them down towards Zelloa’s head.

Zelloa thought it a disappointment that he would make such a mistake, but no matter.

Zelloa stepped forward, nimbly squeezing into the gap between Worf’s arms, and uppercutting their chin with a mighty Force propelled blow. 

Worf’s head snapped backwards, and just as the smirk began forming on Zelloa’s face, Worf clinched them into a bearhug.

“When I was born a Klingon!” Worf shouted as they went to hip toss Zelloa to the ground.

Zelloa had but a moment to act as the two of them approached the concrete ground. They quickly put both hands to Worf’s chest and aimed the soles of their feet to the ground, as they let out a heavy push of the Force from their hands, and a light one from their feet. Worf’s grasp on them was broken as the Klingon warrior was sent rolling sideways against, and Zelloa barely missed scraping their scalp on the concrete as they backflipped to their feet.

Zelloa took a moment to catch their breath, whoever this man was, they were putting up quite the fight. Before Zelloa could even get back to their stance, a blaster fire pierced the sky, and Zelloa turned back to see Princess Leia holding her blaster pistol to the air.

The Captain of the Starfleet ship was down, but the android had their weapon drawn on him. Captain Solo’s arms hung limply at his sides, it looked as if he had dislocated both of them, but the wookie had his bowcaster drawn on him, just as the rebel soldiers with their blasters now closing in on him, and security personnel began streaming out of the _Enterprise_.

“The fight is over, Zelloa,” Leia said as she lowered her blaster from the sky and pointed it straight towards him, “now, we figure out just what the hell is going on.”

* * *

Luke’s breathing was heavy as he could begin to feel the welts on his body form. Bumps of blue on his face, purple and red bruises burning in pain all across his arms and legs as the simulation of Mace Windu restarted itself for the next round of combat.

The once busy sky above them was completely gone now, a black void of dead pixels.The sounds of the Jedi Temple had come to a halt, their audio tracks ending as now only the ragged breathing of Luke remained.

“Have somewhere to be?” Mace asked. He must’ve been stuck in a loop, but that didn’t make the reality of Luke’s situation any better.

Luke could hear an alarm sounding on the ship, outside of the holodeck. His friends were in danger, they needed him right now, and he was stuck fighting a computer.

Luke made a break for where he remembered the holodeck door being, hoping he could open it up if he found it, but the search was over before it could begin. Mace Windu appeared in front of him and hit him with a punch to the chest that sent him hurtling backwards to where he had started.

As Luke laid wheezing on the ground, he heard someone run past the holodeck room shouting something about an explosion, and he clenched his lightsaber with a grip that would only be broken by death.

“First you killed my father, now you’re stopping me from saving my friends!” Luke raised his lightsaber, and the battle began again.

A flurry of strikes and parries, the blue and purple blades clashing into one another as the Jedi Temple grounds began disappearing around them. With each strike the world around them disappeared, until the two were dueling in a void. 

Luke was too slow on one strike and in one instantaneous movement felt his nose shatter as Mace’s fist ran into him, and his lightsaber nearly left his grasp as the Jedi Master batted away his strike.

As he laid on his back and his vision blurred, Luke saw a figure appear in front of him, why was another hologram appearing in front of him?

“Luke! …. Luke, you have to get up!” What in the world was this hologram doing here?

“...Ben? Is that you?” Luke asked.

“Yes, I can spare a quick few rounds. Tell me, have you studied much on the Vapaad Form?” Mace asked, the simulation resetting itself yet again.

“Luke, you and your friends are in grave danger, we must get you away from here,” Ben urged.

The young Jedi regained his bearings, but when it looked like he was going to stand, he sat for a moment, breathing deeply as he held his lightsaber in his hand. “I know, Ben, but …. I can’t. I know I can’t beat him.” 

Luke looked on at the man who would go on to become Darth Vader with nothing but pure hatred in his eyes. First he had killed his father, then Ben, and now Luke was going to die to just a hologram of him.

“Beating him means nothing, Luke,” Ben said, “This is not a fight to defeat him, but a fight to save yourself and your friends, and we will save them, together.”

Ben ignited his lightsaber, as a silent vision it made no hum, but Luke watched as his teacher adopted their stance. “Beating Master Windu through aggression or grief will never be done. You must keep calm and maintain your defenses until we make it to the door. There we will cut through the door and rejoin your friends.”

Luke saw Ben in a form he’d never seen before: one hand stuck forward with two fingers out, while the other hand was drawn back with his lightsaber pointed forward. 

He knew Ben was right, he didn’t have time to be angry at himself. Luke stood and copied Ben’s stance, forming a perfect mirror image of him. 

Their movements were nearly synched as the duel began again, Luke ignoring his pain, ignoring his hatred, and focusing only on his connection with Ben through the Force.

They retreated backwards as Mace’s barrage began again, the two of them stepping away as quickly as they could as they kept Mace’s blows as far away from them as possible. There were no longer great clashes and parries that showed the gap between pure strength and skill between the two, instead there was barely only contact at all as they stayed mostly out of Mace’s range. 

Mace was beginning to move sporadically, his body jerking in and out of place, his existence becoming nothing but sputters of input lag. Luke realized in an instant that now, with the power of the Force, he could strike him down.

“Here!” Ben said as Luke felt his back hit a wall. Luke dodged his head out of the way of another one of Mace’s punches and it hit the door with a thunderous bang, leaving a fist shaped dent in the door. Mace recoiled, pain on his face, and Luke realized his moment had arisen.

He swung his lightsaber at Mace, and as its hum seared through the void, he heard Ben scream, “No!” Mace flickered out of existence for a fraction of a second, where once there was a man recoiling in pain, now there was one swinging his training saber at Luke’s open side at full speed.

Luke knew he was done for. He had fallen out of the pattern, he was barely holding himself together to begin with, and now he was going to take a full force attack from Mace Windu. He would live from the attack, but not in any condition to continue his plan with Ben, he was already running on fumes, instead he would be stuck praying that someone would save him. He was going to lose to nothing but a simulation of his father’s killer.

The sliding door to the holodeck opened, and the image of Mace Windu faded out of existence just as quickly as it had materialized. Luke felt the collar of his jacket get grabbed, and he was yanked out of the room. 

“You’re with the Rebel Alliance right?!” A panicked looking young man asked.

Luke looked down, he was back into his military clothes. Everything was back to as it had been, he was standing in a hallway of the _Enterprise_.

“Something is happening outside, c’mon!” As Luke followed him to the turbolift and out of the ship, they had told him that his name was Wesley Crusher and that he knew where to find Luke by watching the ship’s security cameras. They were fascinated in the Force, and Wesley believed that he may just be one of them, showing him a holopad he had found in the Engineering Room about the history of Jedi from some group called the Force Faithful. 

If it was any other day, Luke would’ve been ecstatic to hear it and rambling about the Force with Wesley, but he had been nearly silent for the whole conversation, only giving one word responses when needed as he caught his breath and ruminated. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

He didn’t know what _it_ was but … he needed to go back in the holodeck. He needed to run the simulation again.

When they got out of the ship, security personnel from the Enterprise and Rebel soldiers were surrounding someone Luke had never seen before, with Leia of course leading the charge, though he was taken aback that she had her gun pointed at his head. He looked around for Han and Chewie, and saw that Chewie was cradling Han in his arms.

“Han!” Luke shouted as he sprinted towards the pair, leaving Wesley behind.

Han was wide awake as he spoke to Luke, his arms hanging limply in the air, “Hey kid, how ya-- whoa!” The smuggler looked over his friend’s wounds, dried blood staining their collar and a steady stream coming from his nose. “You lose a fight with a keyboard or something in that room?”

“Me?!” Luke said as he touched his nose. He thought the pain had gone away when he left the holodeck, but as he winced in pain he realized it was just the adrenaline. “Why is Chewie carrying you around like he’s dropping you off to bed?”

“Well it probably has something to do with him weighing just as much as I thought he did,” Han said.

Chewie made a rumble at Han.

“No offense. Caught him on his trip to find out what’s at the center of this planet after he was sent flying by Bobba Fett, damn near tore both my arms out of the socket.” Han paused for a moment, finally realizing the situation they were all in. “Look kid, Bobba was willing to nearly kill me, on purpose or not, it means that whatever bounty he’s after has to make mine look like a speck of dust. If you see him, watch yourself. Alright?”

Luke only blinked and stared at him, was he sure that his arms were the only thing hurt? “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were concerned about me, you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“You lost a fight with a keyboard, I have a right to be worried.” Luke wanted to be mad, but he couldn’t help but share a laugh with his friend at the joke before he went over to check what was happening with Leia.

“I comply with my complete surrender, Princess Organa. This whole situation has grown terribly out of hand, a complete misunderstanding,” Zelloa said to Leia as Luke broke through the crowd, getting shoulder to shoulder with his friend.

“Misunderstanding? I hear you’ve been causing trouble for this group since you’ve met them, and now one of their team members gets kidnapped nearly as soon as you show up.” Luke had never seen Leia so intense before, her glare looking just as deadly as her blaster. “These people are on no hostile terms with the Rebel Alliance and if you’re trying to make enemies of them I suggest you reconsider your position in this group.”

Zelloa nodded their head, “I understand completely.” They didn’t miss a beat before they asked, “So how may I help you in rescuing Deanna Troi?” They peeked over the crowd and saw that Data was entering closer to them. “Assisting with our new allies would be an honor.”

Luke already had an idea of what she was going to say, but he couldn’t help but steal a look at Leia before she said it. He was expecting her to be nostrils flared and ready to rip his head off, but was more terrified when she only made a small sigh and blinked at Zelloa.

“The next time I’ll be seeing you, it will be with you and your Force Faithful’s boots and sandals on the ground fighting stormtroopers, or with your ships fighting theirs. Is that understood?” Leia said 

Zelloa’s face dropped, their efforts to appease falling to complete neutrality. “I understand, until next time.” 

Zelloa took a moment to see all of the weapons trained on them, waved a farewell, and then dashed away in an instant. Most of the crowd thought that they had teleported away, but Luke knew it was a technique of the Jedi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** First things first **
> 
> Well, that took longer than expected. As hinted by the oddly large gap in publishing times, the story will be going on hiatus for a bit because I need to get a few things wrapped up before I can be as productive as I want on this. In theory.
> 
> One project is for my actual job <s> which I have lost all motivation for in the midst of a global pandemic and was already losing the will to continue down this career path prior to that because I can't help but see a pretty unfulfilling life if I continue down this path tbh </s> that's an RPG Maker game to replace our employee training manual, I'm not quite sure how likely it'll be to get approved, but they told me to do whatever I want for this project and signed off on it, so there's a good chance you'll see it on itch.io at some point (as opposed to the DND module I made that has my actual name attatched to it. Like I know there's nothing really testy in my fics, but I'm not 100% comfortable connecting the two definitively.)
> 
> Next project is my attempt at a career path pivot but it will require like ... actual research and sending out e-mails to experts in fields so that it at least seems semi-believable. I've given myself a 6 month window minimum on this one, because it gon' be real difficult.
> 
> Third project is one that is incredibly depressing/empowering to work on , and I'll probably link that one too because I'm freestyling as I write this, I just remembered this is the internet, I can lie to people. Plus I usually use the ending note as a shoutout space anyways, so I don't think they would even look very out of place if I was like, "Here's a thing I found that I like." 
> 
> ** Back to the regular broadcast **
> 
> So hear me out, but I think I may have made a "grave error" in the structuring of this story. Aside from projects delaying this chapter's release, I would be lying if I was to say it wasn't also held up by two masterpieces that frequently made me put them down, sigh, wonder when my writing would get that satisfying, and then pick them back up; the game _Yakuza 0_ and the book _The Bluest Eye_ by Toni Morrison. A Better pair? They don't make those.
> 
> Aside from the soundtrack of Yakuza 0 greatly shaping how I view these fights in my mind's eye ([Worf v Zelloa be like](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ExPW6UVkvkE)) I realized that they both do the thing I want to do in this story, but better, the rotating POV. I think that when I write, largely because most of the media I consume operates the same way, I don't really _get_ single person POV. Maybe I just don't have the attention span for it most of the time, maybe it's just a bad string of books I've been reading, but I find it more interesting to jump around from character to character or at least let my mind wander around to doing so even if it's not supported in the text.
> 
> However, I have now come to realize for a rotating POV to work, you need time to actually understand your characters. Like I can use the crutch of "It's a fanfic so you already know them" as much as I want, but I still need to put in the work for my writing of these characters to be engaging enough that you want to read their POV. Originally this story was going to be written in a GoT style, where each chapter was exclusively one character's POV, and while I don't think that's exactly the direction I'll be aiming for in the future, I do want to dedicate more time to each character so that they're fleshed out enough so that this can be read as an actual take/evolution of the characters, and not just seeing the world from their eyes for a moment and then moving on.
> 
> Anywho, I don't believe I've given them a shoutout yet, but while I'm on hiatus (hoping to be back by mid August at the latest) but I think it's important to link the actual story that got me into writing fanfics/fiction in general. [Break Through the Limit](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8400080/1/Break-Through-the-Limit) If you like DBZ you're in for a treat, and I really enjoyed seeing the evolution of the author's writing ability. 
> 
> If you read that last paragraph and wondered, "Wait, Fiction? What the hell were they writing before?" I did a few radio dramas for my college that have been lost to the annals of time, and a lot of poetry that will be kept to the annals of my bookshelves. During my hiatus you should give Lucille Clifton's _ Good Woman _ a read if you want to see some of my favorite poetry of all time.
> 
> Anyways, this note has been massive enough,
> 
> See you on the cool side of the pillow,
> 
> -Faris Beshma


	20. Until we Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"On matters of style, swim with the current, on matters of principle, stand like a rock." - Thomas Jefferson_
> 
> Bahsaum tries to get a day job on Utapau when he's interrupted by new and old faces.

“And you’re sure you don’t need a guard?” Bahsaum asked the miners for a fourth time, not yet beginning to wonder why they seemed to get more frustrated each time he asked.

The Utupaun sighed as they tinkered their mining laser, not looking at the forisch’s or their colorful robes as they spoke, “Listen kid, we’ve told you _ many _ more times than once, we do not need a guard. We were protected by the Empire yesterday, and today we’re protected by the Rebels. No one wants this mine shut down, the Pau Crystals are too good.” 

“Besides,” The miner said as they pointed to the blaster rifle on Bahsaum’s back, “that doesn’t look like it will be much help in a mine.”

“This?” Bahsaum said as they pointed at the rifle, “This is just one of my nomadic family’s many talents, and I learned ‘em all. Guardsman, Clergyman, Congressman, Doorman, Wormerman, you name it and I can do it.”

The miner had already begun walking away.

“Alright, well, uh,” Bahsaum sputtered out as they looked into the cave and then back to the miner. He didn’t get a day’s pay out of them, money would be the least of his problems if he tried to find a place to stay for free. 

The jungles of Takodana were bad enough that he still had nightmares about when he was a young gup that ran away from home and spent only a single night in them. Three eyed auva bears the size of castles and hawks with net like talons that could grab dozens of gups at a time, he wasn’t sure what Utapau had in terms of horrors lurking in the deep, and he had no intention of finding out. 

Bahsaum took one last glance at the mine entrance and read the sign over top of it. “Tor’re Mines?” Bahsaum said as he jogged next to the miner and kept pace with them, “I saved a Tor’re in my family’s cantina once. They may not be super closely related, but I think that should at least earn me a--”

A hand tapped Bahsaum’s shoulder, “Is this man bothering you, sir?” asked a Rebel Marine. Well, at least that’s what he seemed to be.

The marine had the right clothes, but looked disheveled even for a rebel in a barely stabilized war zone. He had a fly down and a button open with his belt barely tightened around him. His shirt was so misbuttoned he looked like he had done it while he left his tired hazel eyes in another room. Their sprawling beard and matted sheet of hair were coated in dirt and what looked like dried blood.

Bahsaum could feel his gills tighten in a spike of anxiety as he noticed the Empire issued E-11 blaster on his hip, then looked at the marine’s hands and realized that they were covered in scratches. The odds that they were a Rebel was about as high as a flood hitting Tatooine.

He put on a happy face.

“Hey there sir, name is Bahsaum, nice to meet you!” He stuck out his hand for a handshake, and his suspicions were only confirmed when he felt how calloused the marine’s hands were.

He had run across plenty of soldiers in his time as a guard for Kanata castle, and something was definitely off about this one. Usually they would’ve been with a group, it was normal for their clothes to be ragged but they would be put on correctly, and their hands were so calloused it was like they had been scraping their hands through stones for days.

The miner opened his mouth to speak, but the marine shushed them immediately, then sniffed his fingers as he held them to his face. “Hey wait a second, you’re sweaty.” The marine said to Bahsaum.

“Wha--”

The marine spoke casually as they began searching through their pockets,“Fish sweat when they’re stressed, that’s the smell. Why it’s best to kill them immediately after you catch them.” They stepped closer and sniffed Bahsaum’s collar. “You’re basically a giant raw fish sandwich, but I don’t see why you’d be stressed about that, is a bit of an existential dilemma though. That right there is why we should all just think of ourselves as future food, it’s true and cuts out the worrying.” 

The miner looked back and forth at the two of them with their confusion increasing with each glance and creases of concern forming on their face as they realized how dangerous the situation was. “Sir, that was incredibly inappropriate! You should apologize to my friend immediately!”

Bahsaum felt appreciative of the effort, but he could feel something nagging at the back of his mind. He was the guard, he didn’t want a complete stranger sticking up for him.

The marine pulled out a black and gold pyramid from his pockets. It was covered in odd symbols that Bahsaum had never seen before, but as he looked at them, he could feel himself becoming more and more uncomfortable.

“Your friend, the war criminal?” The marine asked with a yawn, “that’s why they look so distraught right now, otherwise they’d look just as confused as you do.”

The miner began stepping backwards as they saw the marine put his hand on their blaster, “I’m sorry I --- I misspoke, I’m sorry. I’ll be going back to work now.”

Bahsaum had spent too many years in his career to not know what would happen next. The marine would shoot the miner or him next. He didn’t know exactly what they’re play was, but somebody that calm as they were reaching for the trigger was looking for an excuse to pull it. Bahsaum stepped in between the marine and the miner.

“Well I knew…_ it _would catch up eventually. I’ll be going in silently.” His arms were stretched out to the marine, ready to be shackled, but the marine took his blaster and pointed up with one hand. 

“Hands where I can see them, Bahsaum. I’ll be taking that rifle on your back as well.” Once Bahsaum had turned around, the marine grabbed the rifle out of the holster on his back and rested his head on their shoulder, whispering into their ear, “Good call, but why are you going along with this?”

Bahsaum had to hold in a gag at the marine’s rancid breath and looked around. The miner had scurried away to the tunnels, now they were the only two people outside of the mine, Bahsaum could speak and be the only person at risk.

“Because it’s what a guard does. I protect people,” Bahsaum said.

The marine shrugged indifferently. “Nice profession, so then I’m going to assume you already pieced some things together. I already had to kill one of my own soldiers today who wanted to die for the Empire, a few marines who wanted to die for the Rebel Alliance, all just to get this outfit.” He pulled out a piece of frayed cable from his pocket and began binding it around Bahsaum’s wrists behind his back. “You don’t look like a local on this planet, so I’m guessing you have a way off, if there’s any sense on this world my TIE Fighter has already been destroyed or compounded.”

“Well, nice to see my guess was right,” Bahsaum said, “Rebel Marine’s may be lightweights when it comes to alcohol and a righteous bunch, but I’ve never seen one as blatantly corrupt as yourself.”

The marine nudged Bahsaum’s back with the barrel of his gun. “Well congratulations, now you’ve met Andres Cahzaharin. Now let’s get going to that ship of yours, you’ve got some friends of mine to meet and you better not embarrass me.”

* * *

They had all gone into that blasted ship, the Enterprise. The ship where they should’ve been invited on. Sure, their introductions had been a bit rocky to say the least, but Zelloa knew that if neither the Rebel Alliance or Starfleet listened to them, then they would only succeed in making their lives more difficult than they needed to be.

Princess Organa had told them that the next time she would see them was when they were with the rest of the Force Faithful fighting stormtroopers, that could be arranged. In fact, it could be arranged almost immediately.

For all they knew, the armored figure who attacked them was just some former stormtrooper, even if he was a much better shot than any Zelloa had ever seen before.

What Zelloa did know was that securing Deonna Troi a position in the Force Faithful was of top priority, and they weren’t going to let one or two moments of diplomatic miscommunication get in the way of that.

Whatever blind search his soon to be allies were using, they were bound to take longer than needed. Any kidnapper worth their salt knew to cover their tracks, and such crude means as welded together hunks of metal and wire could only do so much. The much simpler solution was where all solutions always were, in the Force.

Zelloa closed their eyes and took in a deep breath and after a few moments they were looking within the living quarters of their ship, the _Amalgam_. Across from them was the ship’s head communicator, nodding off as he always was.

Even when seeing him through the Force, Zelloa was nearly blinded by the fluorescent lights reflecting off Rhodec's bald head, and only wished they were deaf as they heard the Bothan’s snoring echoing throughout their mind like a backfiring AT-AT.

“Rhodec! Rhodec can you hear me?” Zelloa asked.

Rhodec snapped awake, the massive man’s green eyes darting around before focusing in on Zelloa, obviously surprised by the _USS Enterprise_ behind them. Perhaps Rhodec was just surprised Zelloa had survived the fall at all. “Of course I can hear you, I was just exploring the Force for a moment there.”

“Exploring the Force? Is that why you have the drool stain on your collar?”

Rhodec looked at the collar of their tunic, there wasn’t anything there, but having checked was admission enough. “Well you’ll have to give me some slack, guide. After you nearly blew off the bottom hatch jumping into the planet after Brother Nogwo had warned you against it, they woke me up to go scrounging around for a part.” 

Zelloa withheld a sigh, they had suggested for them to start sorting the pieces they needed to Brother Nogwo, but of course that was just too monumental of a task for them to bother with. “Well I’m glad the repairs have been made at least, have you had any sightings or sensings of ships leaving the planet’s atmosphere since I landed?”

Rhodec stood tall and closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them back up. “Nope, no one on the Bridge says they’ve seen anything, and if someone had pierced through my area I would have sensed them.”

“Enough to wake you up?”

“I would have sensed them.”

Zelloa gave a tired sigh. “Alright, I’ll reconvene with you when it’s time to leave.”

Rhodec spoke with a strong yawn, his words barely even forming over the sound of sleep coming to taking him once again. “Any idea when that will be? Nogwo said you might need back up so…?”

Zelloa blinked, and the connection through the Force holding them together was closed off.

If there hadn’t been any people versed in the Force leaving the planet, that meant that Troi was still on the planet. Zelloa knew that they hadn’t made a strong enough connection through the Force with her to see where she was, but as they resumed their meditation, another presence became known.

The connection felt faint, like a half remembered dream. Whoever it was, Zelloa would need more time forging a bond with them to identify them. Admitting to desperation wasn’t something that they were prone to do, but with every second working against them, Zelloa made the choice to open the connection.

The connection to the stranger wasn’t nearly as clear as the one to Rhodec. Zelloa now knew what it would have been like to have taken the full brunt of the concussive missile, as their vision struggled to look better than a blur of brown. They could tell they were outside of some tunnel though judging by the dark abyss in front of him. They thought they heard shouting, and as they looked to their left, they saw a rainbow of clothes with a forisch’s head, and a figure in what seemed to be grey and white military fatigues.

The screaming was probably the forisch asking for help, but the screams didn’t matter much if they couldn’t figure out who or where they were. If they could connect to them through the Force though, it meant there was a significant chance they were worth saving, perhaps they would even join them in the Force Faithful!

Zelloa focused even harder, their jaw clenched harder as they struggled to keep their balance, feeling themselves slipping further into the Force, giving their entire mind and body to it. Their vision became clear, and now they could see it all; the forisch from Takodana was being held captive by some rabid marine.

At first the forisch looked annoyed but overall complacent, showing even a hint of boredom. Then they noticed Zelloa.

The forisch’s eyes widened in fear for just a second, melting away as their face grew stern as they bared their teeth in … anger? At the situation obviously. It was probably a warning to try and keep Zelloa safe, but they sure they could sort out whatever trouble the forisch was in.

Zelloa saw the name of the mine, asked a passing scavenger, and was gone like the wind as he sprinted with the power of the Force. What would have been minutes of walking was turned to seconds as an exhausted Zelloa stood opposite of the marine and forisch.

Zelloa was starting to regret how much of the Force they had used since arriving on the planet, feeling themselves become more and more light headed as they stood in front of the two.

“You .... you will release the forisch, the member of my flock, this instant,” Zelloa said breathlessly, putting their hands on their knees to keep themself stable.

“You were on Takodana,” Bahsaum said flatly, “I remember you, you did something to my mind.”

“Yes, that.” Zelloa stood up straight, their eyes unfocused as they swayed left and right. “You’re welcome.”

Zelloa was confused by what he saw next, it seemed like the marine tapped the forisch on the shoulder and nodded his head, and suddenly the world was rushing towards them. It wasn’t until they hit the ground that Zelloa realized they had fallen, and it wasn’t until they closed their eyes that they began to feel the pain rising in the back of their head. 

The fall, the pain, the shouting happening above them, were all but fleeting moments for Zelloa as they closed their eyes and embraced a long rest.

* * *

“Thanks for the assist,” Andres shouted out to their “fellow” rebel.

“No problem, I just heard the broadcast about what this schmuck did to Organa’s group, figured I’d take them into custody before anything happened,” said the rebel as they slapped a pair of stun cuffs on Zelloa.

Andres gave the rebel a thumbs up and shoved Bahsaum along, after the third time of telling him to keep it moving, they finally stopped looking at Zelloa.

The two continued on in complete silence as Bahsaum guided him to his ship, and the two squeezed in together, leaving the planet with barely any legroom in between the two of them in the Naboo Starfighter.

“Well, that was really weird. You gonna keep being real weird?” Andres said as they struggled to get their hand into their pocket and pulled out a dull pocket knife that they used to clean the plaque from their teeth. “Because if you’re gonna be weird, I should know about it before I bring you onto the ship.”

“Hard to be weird about someone you don’t even know. Won’t even be relevant unless I see them again,” Bahsaum said as he looked out of the window.

Andres put in the coordinates to the _Annihilator_.”Noted. let’s hope you two never meet again,” he said. 

The two entered hyperdrive, leaving Utapau far, far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey paisanos, it's time for another author's note! 
> 
> Well I got this chapter up on the exact day I said I would, which to be completely honest, I'm sure is a pleasant surprise for all of us. The other projects I was working on to get them out of my way before I got back to this one are all complete as they're probably going to get; One of them is so depressing that I decided to channel it into a fic I'm going to publish under an alias at first and then probably link it to here after I'm 3 chapters in (Hint: The quote at the beginning is a hint but it sure as hell isn't a Hamilton Fic) and the second is an RPG Maker that was going to be used to train my new employees, but because we're going into a COVID ridden hellscape for hopefully only a few weeks, it's completely moot until I've probably gotten a different job o3o.
> 
> As for updates pertaining to this story, I realized that I haven't really _tested_ Riker yet in the way Picard was tested on Sullust, and even he could use a bit more work. This pre-Episode V saga will be a little bit longer because I want to really include those elements before we get to the extreme divergences that will come in the future, but I've decided to go for the Star Trek season finale 2 parter type of style for those, give myself some restraint to make it more interesting.
> 
> Well that's all I can think of updating for this update, if you have access to Lovecraft County, WATCH LOVECRAFT COUNTY (and that's a fanfic that will actually be on this profile :))
> 
> Ta ta for now!  
-Faris Beshma
> 
> P.S.
> 
> I decided to write an appendix to make <strike>my life</strike> our lives easier, will post when I finish it completely so probably this Sunday or at least before the next update.


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